by Clayton Wood
It hit!
Hunter’s eyes widened as the bird fell from the branch, landing on the ground with a thump. It flailed on the ground for a bit, its wings beating the forest floor, then went still. He turned to Vi, a huge smile on his face.
“I did it!” he exclaimed. Vi smirked.
“Took you long enough,” she retorted. He glared at her.
“Really?” he grumbled. “You can’t even give me one victory?” She chuckled.
“You done good kiddo,” she admitted. “Now go get us dinner before some asshole animal steals it from us.”
He complied, jogging up to the bird and kneeling before it. He grabbed the shaft of his arrow, stepping on the bird and yanking the arrow out. Then he grimaced, picking the bird up by one wing, holding it as far away from himself as he could.
“It’s not going to peck you,” she yelled. He ignored her, walking past her toward the spiraling path down to the canyon nearby. He strode down it, feeling good despite Vi’s merciless heckling. He’d finally managed to kill something, after all. They’d been trying for over an hour. Frankly, he thought he’d never be able to do it.
“Time to make a fire,” Vi stated. “I’ll show you how to clean the corpse.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks for dinner,” she replied, walking behind him. “Not so scared of heights anymore I see.”
He frowned, glancing over the edge of the narrow path. She was right, he realized; the sheer drop to the lake below no longer made him nervous, despite the fact that it would quite certainly murder his ass. He wondered if it was because he was getting used to it, or because Vi was near him. She had a calming influence on him, he’d realized, and it didn’t take her touching him to do it. Just by being near him, he felt rather peaceful. He wondered if she felt that way all the time.
Eventually they reached the bottom of the canyon, and Vi led them back to the site of the campfire they’d been using for the past couple of weeks. Hunter got to work gathering branches and tinder, and it wasn’t long before they were crouched before a merrily crackling fire. Vi showed him how to clean and dress the bird, forcing him to do most of the work, as was her way. After the meat cooked, they ate in silence. The food was pretty good, actually…and it tasted even better knowing that he’d done everything to prepare it. He ate in satisfied silence, until there was no meat left.
“You had a good day,” Vi opined, finishing her meal and eyeing him from across the fire. He nodded.
“Yeah, I did,” he admitted. Not at first, of course. They’d sparred for most of the morning and early afternoon, as they had for the last couple of weeks, Vi coming at him relentlessly. Over and over again she’d beaten him…he hadn’t gotten a single hit on her despite hours of trying. He had fresh bruises all over his body from the ordeal, of course. She’d been right though; the pain of getting hit had proven an excellent teacher, despite how pissed off he’d gotten at her. And any time he’d lost his temper and lashed out at her, she’d easily defeated him…and made him pay dearly for his temper.
It’d been a pretty painful two weeks, actually. In fact, he hoped he never had to go through it again. But he’d learned a hell of a lot…mostly through paying attention to what she was doing.
At the end of each day’s sparring lessons, she’d drilled attacks and counterattacks for a full hour, making him do them until he was utterly exhausted…and today had been no different. Except that today she’d expected him to do the hunting. Being hungry hadn’t helped him focus, that’s for sure. His dad always said he got that from his mother. Mom’s dark moods when she’d been hungry were downright legendary.
“Alright,” she declared, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”
“Already?”
“Yep,” she confirmed. “Sleep is good for the mind. You should go to bed too.”
“All right.”
“Night,” she added.
“Night.”
She walked toward her home, unlocking her front door and opening it.
“Hey Vi?” Hunter called out. She turned to look at him, her green eyes almost iridescent in the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”
She smiled at him, then stepped through the doorway, closing and locking the door behind her. Hunter sighed, turning back to the fire. The sun had dipped well below the canyon walls, the first of the stars twinkling in the night sky. Three moons hung there, suspended in the cosmos. A nightly reminder of where he was…and where he was not.
“All right,” he muttered, standing up. He walked across the long bridge to the shore, finding his usual resting place. He’d seen fit to add some more forest litter to his bedding, in hopes of waking up with less soreness in his back and hip. He unstrapped his sword from his waist, setting it aside, then laid down on his back, staring up at the steadily darkening sky. He wondered what Vi would have him do tomorrow; probably more sparring. He grabbed his sword, clutching it to his chest.
Gonna need all the help I can get.
With that, he closed his eyes. And it was no surprise – given yet another day filled to the brim with exertion – that within moments of doing so, he was fast asleep.
* * *
The next morning, Hunter awoke to the sound of birds chirping. He stirred, hearing the sharp calls echoing through the canyon, piercing through the eternal din of the waterfalls crashing into the lake. His sword was still laying across his chest; he’d been sleeping on his back the entire night. As a result, his hip felt better…but his back ached something terrible when he sat up.
What I wouldn’t give to have a bed, he thought.
Hunter got to his feet, brushing leaves and dirt from his clothes, then strapped his sword to his hip. Its weight felt surprisingly comforting there…natural, even, as if it were a part of him. He drew the blade from its scabbard, sliding it effortlessly free. The blade glimmered in the sunlight.
He studied it, studying the small symbols etched down the length of the blade. The hilt appeared to be made of ivory, with leather straps wrapped tightly around it. He held it in both hands, giving it one swing, then another. The blade cut through the air, and the movement felt even better than it had yesterday. More natural. He practiced a thrust, snapping at the waist to add power to it.
Not bad, he thought.
He imagined Vi thrusting at him, and blocked the blow, countering with a quick slash, then a thrust of his own. He couldn’t help but smile; as much as he’d hated Vi for all the drills she’d put him through, he could feel the difference they’d made. His moves were faster, more precise. And most importantly, they just felt right.
He tried a few more drills with his imaginary opponent, then sheathed his sword, walking across the bridge to the island. He spotted the campfire in front of the house, realizing that he’d left the bow and quiver full of arrows near it. Hunter grabbed these, eager to try his hand at some target practice. There was little doubt in his mind that Vi would force him to hunt again today; the more practice he got, the sooner he’d get to eat.
I should’ve slept with the bow, he thought, mentally kicking himself. He’d probably have been a much better shot yesterday if he’d done so for the last couple of weeks. Oh well…he was going to sleep with it tonight, that was for sure.
He turned back to the bridge, crossing it, then stopping some thirty feet away from one of the trees growing near the canyon wall. Pulling an arrow from the quiver, he set it on the bowstring, pulling back, then letting go. The arrow shot just to the left of the trunk.
Damn.
He looked down, making sure his feet were pointed perpendicular to his target. Then he lined up his hips and shoulders, drawing another arrow and trying again. This time, the arrow shot true, slamming into the trunk.
Yes!
He drew another arrow, making sure to check his body position before making another shot. This too slammed into the trunk, a few inches below the first arrow. He smiled.
“All right,�
� he murmured. “Not bad Hunter. Not bad.”
He tried again…and again, the arrow shot true.
“Well shit,” he said, grinning from ear-to-ear. “I think I’ve got it.”
Just then, he heard a snap behind him.
He whirled around, dropping the bow and reaching for his sword, pulling it free from its scabbard and holding it before him in one fluid motion. Then he relaxed – it was only Vi. She arched an eyebrow at him, ignoring the tip of his sword less than a foot from her face.
“Morning kid,” she greeted, glancing at the tree trunk. “Not bad,” she opined. He sheathed his sword, picking the bow up off the ground.
“Morning yourself,” he grumbled back. “Did you have to sneak up on me like that?”
“Yep,” she replied. “Nice reflexes, by the way. You’re improving.”
“Thanks,” he replied. To be honest, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. It’d been pure reflex – no doubt something he’d picked up from sleeping with his sword. He glanced down, seeing a rolled-up piece of paper in Vi’s hand. “What’s that?” he asked. “Didn’t know you could read.”
“Bet you can’t,” she retorted. He grimaced, realizing she’d gotten him on that one. He couldn’t read, at least not whatever language they wrote here. Strange that they spoke the same language though. He supposed it was possible that English-speaking people would’ve gone through the Gate, given that it was in North America. But the Native Americans had been in North America first, far before the British had arrived. He would’ve expected them to have a much larger presence here. None of it made much sense…but there had to be an explanation.
“So what is it?” he pressed.
“A job,” she answered. “A carrier pigeon dropped it off this morning,” she explained. “It’s from one of my usual clients.”
“What’s the job?”
“Can’t tell you,” she answered. “It’s confidential.”
“Aw, come on,” he pressed.
“A Seeker doesn’t talk about her clients,” Vi shot back. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Thought you weren’t a Seeker.”
“I’m not a member of the Guild of Seekers,” she corrected. “I still collect artifacts and Ossae for clients…you know, the definition of a Seeker.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “What are we doing today?”
“Well,” she replied, looking him up and down. “I enjoyed kicking your ass so much yesterday I think we’ll do it again.”
“Great,” he muttered. “Now my bruises are gonna have bruises.”
“Come on,” she stated, stuffing the paper in a pocket. She went back into the house, returning moments later with their practice swords. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” she added, tossing the sword to him. He caught it, holding it in both hands.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll go easy on you.”
“Uh huh.”
He backed up a step, staying just out of her reach, then circled slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, as she’d taught him. People had a tendency to look at what they were going to try to hit before they swung…a ‘tell’ that could give him the upper hand. And keeping his eyes on hers prevented him from making the same mistake.
She lunged forward suddenly, thrusting at his belly.
He reacted, weeks of drills kicking in. He stepped to the side, blocking her strike to the outside, then slashing at her neck. She hopped backward, his sword barely missing her.
“Good,” she stated, then thrust again without warning. He lurched backward, barely blocking her blade in time.
“Nice…” he began, but she lunged forward a third time, thrusting the tip of her sword right into his belly. He grimaced, backing up and slapping her sword away.
“Never assume your opponent is done,” Vi chided. “They’re only done when they’re dead.”
“Got it,” he grumbled, getting back into his fighting stance. Vi smiled.
“Good,” she replied…and thrust at him again. He blocked it, slashing at her, but she blocked his attack, thrusting yet again. He stepped to the side, swatting her sword away and kicking at her knee. She stepped back just in time, slashing at his neck. He blocked it, thrusting at her belly…and missing as she dodged to the side, her blade stopping right at his neck.
“Damn it,” he swore. Vi smiled.
“You’re doing well,” she reassured. “Much better than when you started. God, you were such a little bitch.”
“Learned from the best,” he retorted, holding his sword in front of him.
“You know, if you were half as good at fighting as you were at slinging insults, you might make a good swordsman,” she replied. “I’m going to be harder on you now,” she warned. “Try to keep up.”
She came at him again, this time with a flurry of slashes and thrusts. Each time he managed to block one blow, another came. After a few attacks, she managed to stab him in the stomach. Again.
“Can you pick a different spot to stab me in?” he grumbled, backpedaling and rubbing his throbbing belly.
“Aww, sick of being murdered the same way every time?” she teased, flicking her wrist. Her sword went right between his legs, stopping just before hitting his tender bits. “There better?”
“Just because you like girls,” he retorted, stepping back and batting her sword away, “…doesn’t mean you get to turn me into one.”
“But I’m so lonely,” she mocked, batting his sword to the side and placing the tip of her sword back where it’d been. “You know how long it’s been since I got some?”
“I know a girl who could help with that,” he shot back, batting her sword away again and thrusting at her belly. She parried the blow easily. “Probably doesn’t like girls though.”
Vi slashed diagonally downward at his neck, and he stepped inside, blocking her strike and cutting down at her neck. She turned to the side, dodging the blow with not an inch to spare…and kicked him in the shin, making his knee lock. He grunted, his body leaning forward reflexively, and she rapped him on the top of the head with the pommel of her sword. Gently, of course…but hard enough to smart.
“Ow,” he blurted, shoving her backward. He rubbed his head, glaring at her.
“Girls like her like everyone, remember?” Vi replied, giving him an amused look. “Even you, surprisingly.”
“I’ll have you know,” he shot back, feigning a thrust, “…she wanted me the first day she saw me.” Vi didn’t react to the feint, of course. She attacked, a flurry of slashes that he somehow managed to block.
“She must be special,” she replied.
“She was special all right,” he agreed, circling around Vi. She smirked.
“That’s not what I meant.”
She attacked again, raining blow after blow on him, forcing him backward. Again he managed to block each attack, dodging the last one and slashing at her exposed flank. She blocked it, then flicked her sword, rapping the back of his hand. Hard.
“Damn it!” he cursed, dropping his sword. She thrust at him, the tip of her sword stopping right between his eyes.
“Defang the snake,” she stated, lowering her sword slowly. “Remember that the hand is a great target. Try to get around your enemy’s cross-guard.”
“Gentle with the hand,” he grumbled, picking up his sword. She arched an eyebrow at him.
“I’m sorry, did you have plans for it later?”
Hunter blushed, and she chuckled, stepping back from him.
“You’re learning,” she stated, eyeing him approvingly.
“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“Well at least you’re not trying to quit every five minutes anymore,” she added. “See what happens when you try?”
Hunter smiled grudgingly. Vi stepped forward, patting him on the shoulder, and he had to resist the urge to swat her hand away with his sword. She had a point…he felt good about his progress, in a way he’d never really felt at school. He’d never had a teacher as brutal as Vi, of cou
rse. She’d forced him to learn, or get the crap beaten out of him.
“I’m hungry,” Vi declared suddenly, throwing her practice sword to the ground. “Grab that bow,” she ordered, “…and fetch me some breakfast, slave.”
“Hey, watch it,” Hunter shot back. “Sensitive subject there.” Vi frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“My ancestors were slaves,” he explained. “It’s a kind of a big deal back home.”
“Ah, my apologies,” she replied. She picked up the quiver, handing it to him. “Fetch me some breakfast, bitch.”
Hunter took the quiver, slinging it over his shoulder.
“Yes mistress,” he droned. She smirked at him, walking toward the wooden bridge leading to the shore.
“You wish,” she replied, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Kinda,” he admitted. “It’s a shame you don’t like dudes,” he added. “You’re a pretty awesome chick.”
“So are you,” Vi replied with a wink. “So are you.” She gave him a squeeze. “Come on,” she added. “We’ll hunt something that doesn’t fly. I need to teach you tracking.”
Chapter 22
Sukri sat in her wheelchair in the usual meeting room in the Guild of Seekers, surrounded by the other initiates. Of the other five, two had failed out of the class during their team’s first Trial over a week ago. That left Sukri, Gammon, Donahue, Udeln, and a woman named Yala. She was in her early thirties, slightly overweight, with short black hair. Sukri found her a bit strange, possessed of an impressive intellect, but sorely lacking in social skills. Even Udeln had a certain charm about him compared to Yala; he was the kind of boy Sukri’s mom would have insisted she date.
It’d been well a couple of weeks since Sukri and Gammon’s first Trial, and Master Thorius had spent day after day trying to teach Sukri how to control her emotions. It was her greatest weakness, that she absorbed them so easily…but also, he’d told her, her greatest strength. She had no idea what he’d meant by that, and he hadn’t clarified his statement when she’d asked.
