by Jeff Gunzel
White-hot pain radiated through Viola’s body. Viola tried to block, tried to focus on the whirling weapon, but it all happened so fast. A novice who had never even tasted combat had just witnessed firsthand how pathetic her skill set was when matched up against this veteran warrior. Grimacing in pain, Viola dropped her stick and sank to one knee. Her tingling body felt like it was covered in pins and needles.
“That’s enough for today,” said Thatra, twirling her stick victoriously over her head. “You actually had a better showing than I thought you—”
“No,” said Viola, reaching out to retrieve her abandoned weapon. Using it like a crutch, she pushed herself up off the ground. “We’re not finished yet.” Wobbling on unsteady legs, she readied her weapon.
“I see,” said Thatra, looking at her with a sideways glance. “Very well. I suppose you want another chance to get me back.” She raised her own stick above her head, then taunted Viola with a series of hand gestures.
Viola rushed forward, her stick slashing sideways in a slow strike towards the side of Thatra’s head. The warrior slapped away the clumsy strike, then countered with lightning speed, driving her stick directly into Viola’s shoulder for the second time.
Fire shot down her already sore arm, but she refused to give in to the pain. Viola spun in reverse, driving her weapon down low.
Thatra lifted her leg, allowing the strike to sweep harmlessly underneath her foot. The warrior countered again, her hand speed fluid yet impossibly fast as she cracked Viola’s shoulder yet again.
Searing pain blasted through Viola’s shoulder for a third time, this one causing numbness all the way down into her fingers.
“All right, that’s enough of—” Thatra got her stick up just in time. Wielding with only one arm, Viola had been inches away from returning a similar retaliation to Thatra’s face. Although her student was thoroughly outmatched, her resilience was growing tiresome. Thatra decided a lesson was needed. Immediately after blocking, she fired another hard strike at Viola’s shoulder, one that would surely end this nonsense. How many more could she possibly take, in the same spot no less? Her eyes widened at the solid vibration and the resounding crack. Somehow, someway, Viola had blocked the strike. I don’t know if she was instinctually protecting her sore shoulder or consciously recognizing my attack pattern. Either way, she’s learning.
Viola came in high, chopping downward in a diagonal swing. Annoyed, Thatra slapped it away and unloaded with another offensive flurry. Hip, thigh, knee, jaw—the consecutive number of hard cracks made the men cringe.
Her body going limp, Viola’s knees buckled and she crumbled to the ground.
Thatra flashed forward, catching her before she fell. “It’s over!” Thatra shouted in her face, shaking her by the shoulders. “You hear me? We’re done—” A metallic taste flooded her mouth as Viola drove her forehead straight into her jaw. On pure reflex alone, Thatra blasted Viola across the face with a sickeningly hard right-hand blow.
“You’re out of control!” Thatra shouted, spitting a mouthful of blood as she turned away from her fallen opponent. She felt terrible this had gone so far, but her student had brought it on herself. But after taking one step, her other foot wouldn’t move. She looked down to see a small, pale hand wrapped around her ankle.
“The most dangerous opponent in the world is the one who refuses to give up,” Viola mumbled, her soft words smothered as she lay face down in the dirt. “Yield,” she whispered. Thatra forced a step, dragging Viola’s whole body along the ground. “Yield,” Viola repeated, still face down in the dirt.
Teary eyed, the warrior dropped down to kneel beside her. “Of course,” she said, wrapping both hands around Viola’s hand. She carefully pried her fingers off one at a time. “I yield. Whatever you want. Just end this madness, please.”
The men watched silently, each gaining a whole new perspective as to what Viola might be capable of. Each of them had been there before, beaten and bloody, but unwilling to give up. The hunter, his apprentice, and Liam had all been pushed to their limits and beyond many a time in both their past training as well as real-life combat. And now before their very eyes, they had watched Viola take a step none of them were certain she was capable of.
Liam rose to his feet. Before going to dish out a bit of magical healing, he rubbed Xavier on the shoulder without saying a word. When the apprentice shifted, two gold coins fell from his shoulder and bounced off his knee.
Chapter 6
The evening meal had a different feel to it than the past few nights. Instead of propping herself against a tree to bury herself in one of her books, Viola actually decided to eat and laugh with the others. It was not as if she wasn’t tempted to run off with a book tucked under her arm, though. A part of her longed to go to a corner and tear back into that wealth of information. But for once she would skip her routine, if only for tonight. For some odd reason, tonight felt like a celebration of sorts. She even felt different somehow.
For the first time in her life, she had truly tested her own physical limits, pushing past a mental wall to set a new standard for herself. Viola had done something she didn’t think was possible, and actually felt proud of herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt proud. Arrogant or not, she would enjoy this feeling for as long as she could.
But that wasn’t even the best part. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but the others seemed to be treating her differently. They had always been kind to her, of course, but it was not unlike the kindness one might show to a stray dog that looked hungry. At times, it almost felt like pity. At least, that’s how it always felt to her, like she wasn’t really viewed as an equal.
It felt different now—at least, in her mind it did. The differences were only minor, but to her they felt huge: Liam smiling warmly, making strong eye contact as he passed her another strip of meat; Thatra giving her a hard thump on the back when she worked her way to the other side of the fire. Viola did her best not to wheeze from the heavy smacks. In fact, she felt as if holding her upright position instead of tumbling into the fire was a small victory in itself. Of course, she would never actually admit that to any of them. For once she felt like an equal.
That evening she curled up into her bedroll, listening to the chirping crickets as they sang into the night. An owl hooted, momentarily disrupting their song until they began to chirp once more a short time later. Facing away, she could feel Xavier’s lingering gaze. But instead of rolling over to meet his eyes, she just stayed put and kept to herself. This was her time, her moment, and she chose to be alone with her thoughts under the starry sky. Even after receiving the benefits of Liam’s magical healing, her body still ached. Her muscles were sore, and there was a constant ringing in her ear.
In truth, she’d never felt better in her life.
*
When morning came, Viola was still a bit stiff, but other than that, no worse for wear. Deciding to eat on the way, she and the others quickly packed up camp and headed out. Thatra made it clear that if they made good time, they would probably reach the nezzerian village before nightfall.
With the trees more spaced out in these parts, Owen’s lavics was no longer needed to make a path through brute force. No longer needing to ride single file, they moved along in a loose formation while still able to maintain a brisk pace. Thatra and Viola rode side by side, chatting away and giggling among themselves. Xavier took up the rear, deciding it might be best to keep his distance from these two. They were obviously having one of their girl talks, and their constant giggling always seemed to be followed by a quick glance back in his direction.
Someone needs to keep watch from the rear. That was what he told himself, anyway. Thatra glanced back again with a tight-lipped grin. I wish those two would stop doing that. What are they talking about, anyway?
With a snap of his reins, Liam moved up to ride side by side with Owen. “You look like ye got something on yer mind,” said the hunter, glancing down from the back o
f his lumbering beast.
“I have an uneasy feeling about all this,” Liam admitted, his eyes straight ahead as he rode.
“I thought we were all in agreement,” Owen replied. “The nezzerians are our best bet. Surely they’ll see the problem for what it is and offer Viola the protection we can’t. If not exactly out of the goodness of their hearts, they’ll probably just agree for the sake of keeping balance in the world. Are ye having second thoughts?”
“No,” Liam answered after a pause. “Not really. It’s just that I usually think things through before making big choices. We’re going into this blind, you know. I’m just not used to giving up so much control to circumstance instead of carefully planning.”
“We be out of options a long time ago,” Owen said. “Like it or not, I don’t see a better option.”
“Perhaps,” Liam admitted, running his fingers along his white mustache as he contemplated. “But that’s exactly what I mean. I understand that this is most likely the best course of action, but for how long?” The hunter squinted, wondering what Liam might be getting at. “Let’s just say the nezzerians agree that Viola’s life is indeed important, that allowing her capture and eventual death at the hand of the ghatins will completely throw off the balance. Assume they agree to protect her for the sake of all they believe in. How long can we really depend on their protection? A year? Ten, perhaps?
“You were there when the ghatins attacked the tarrin village. You saw firsthand what those demons are capable of. They are bloodthirsty, relentless, and above all, extremely powerful. What happens once they discover Viola’s location? And believe me, my friend, no matter how hard we try to keep it a secret, they will find her sooner or later. Do the nezzerians have the muscle or even the will to fend off siege after siege? And what of us? Do we just leave her in their hands and go our separate ways, simply hoping for the best?”
“I understand what yer saying,” Owen groaned, leaning back on his great beast. “Look, there is no sense in worrying about any of that right now.”
“Then when do we worry?” Liam shot back sharply. But his hard eyes softened immediately. “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized.
“Bah,” Owen grunted with a dismissive wave. “Let me ask ye a question. In all those years ye served in Redwater’s army, how many young lives do you suspect you took?”
Liam’s eyes went wide at the blunt and highly personal question. From one soldier to another, this was hardly a thing that was ever discussed. “Far too many,” Liam answered honestly. “I never kept count because I knew it was a number I’d hoped to forget someday.”
“Aye,” Owen grunted, a gleam of understanding in those odd gray eyes. “But I’ll bet each life you took came with quite a story attached, yes?”
“Of course,” Liam agreed.
“Now imagine a young green version of yerself trying to have a talk with the man ye are now. Do ye even remember who ye were at nineteen or twenty years old? Ignorant to the violence of the world, naive to the choices ye were about to make. And more importantly, ignorant to the consequences of those choices. Tell me, Liam, would ye do it all over again if ye could? Would ye even be capable of walking that dark road a second time, knowing what you know now?”
Liam’s eyes glazed over as he looked back on his memories. “Knowing what I know now? I don’t believe I could walk this road a second time. To this day my hands are stained with blood. Some of them deserved their fate, others were no more than young boys sent off to fight for a cause not of their own. I still see their faces in my sleep. I can still hear their dying screams, yet I knew it could just as easily have been me lying there with steel in my chest.”
“But ye survived to tell the tale, did ye not?” Owen asked. “So what would ye tell yer nineteen-year-old self in order to prepare him for what was to come?”
Liam swallowed, his gaze falling to the ground. “I wouldn’t tell him anything,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Nothing I say could help that young man in facing the many horrors his innocent mind could not yet comprehend. Other than learning to trust his own instincts and training, any warning I gave would probably have a negative effect. Imagine already knowing how many times you’ll have to cheat death, before you’ve ever held a sword. Imagine trying to explain to that young man how many lives he will take with his own hands. There’s no way to mentally prepare for such a thing. Sometimes the future is better left unknown.”
“Aye,” Owen agreed. “Nor would I give any advice or warning to my younger self. How do ye prepare a young mind to see and experience things no human was ever meant to see?” There came a long moment of silence as the old warriors reflected. “So what happened? When did ye start worrying about a future ye know ye can’t control?” Owen asked after a time.
Liam seemed to snap out of his thoughts when hearing those words.
“We’re still walking this road, Liam,” the hunter continued. “We didn’t make it this far by worrying about the road ahead. As ye say, worrying about the future is a fool’s game.
“We’re going to find the nezzerian village, and they’re either going to help us or they won’t. Once we have our answer, we will act accordingly just as we always have. Approach it any other way and we’ll both likely go mad!” Owen reared his head back and cackled, exposing several spaces of missing teeth.
Liam echoed his laugh, but for a completely different reason. Once again he had underestimated the veteran warrior. Despite his gruff exterior and sometimes barbaric manners, Owen had a true wisdom about him, a general insight that only came from years of experience.
“Turn to the east once we pass that next tree,” Thatra called out. “If memory serves, it’s only another hour’s ride from here.”
Liam dropped back into formation. Owen acknowledged her words with a wave before steering his beast to the right. Her general sense of direction while navigating through the forest was impressive. Had they stayed on the main road, this would have been a much easier journey. But by choosing to cut right through the forest, they were able to shave off at least two days of travel, as well as keep Viola off the main roads.
Sure enough, a short time later they crossed an overgrown trail that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. The scattered party moved back into a row as they followed it. Owen remained in the lead, his beast making short work of bristly shrubs and hanging vines that would have otherwise been a burden on the horses. Suddenly he stopped, his lavics letting out a mighty snort. The hunter whistled while patting his beast’s neck in long, calming strokes.
“What is it? Why have we stopped?” Liam asked, attempting to see over Owen’s shoulder by shifting about on his mount.
Owen glanced back. “Ye all need to see this,” he grumbled before riding ahead so the others could follow. Emerging from the thick brush, the group found themselves staring straight up at a massive structure. The wooden wall had to be forty feet high, completely assembled from sanded logs tied together with vines. Blazing torches topped every tenth log or so, collectively lighting the area in a sea of flickering light.
Seeing no immediate way in, they followed along the wall’s base while gazing up at the marvel of engineering. Who could have built such a thing? Viola reached out to touch it while riding, her hand thumping each smoothly sanded log as she passed. But a quiet scolding from Liam saw her pull her hand away. He warned of possible traps and reminded her that the loss of her hand wasn’t worth the risk.
Rounding the corner, they discovered a set of enormous double doors with a single torch blazing on either side. Wide open and unguarded, the easy entrance almost felt like a trap for unwary travelers. “Unlike humans, the nezzerians don’t bother with guards or any other wasted resources,” said Thatra, answering the obvious question on everyone’s mind. “This must seem strange to you all, given how humans are suspicious of everyone. By your way of thinking, everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise, hence your constant need to be wary of those who’ve done nothing to you. You could say
the nezzerians’ instincts are the opposite of your own. They believe that if a stranger’s intentions are evil, then there is no sense in trying to stop them, since they’re only acting out on their own instinct. The stranger’s intent is not to be judged.”
“So they leave these doors wide open with no intent of defending themselves should the need arise?” Liam asked, having a hard time comprehending this strange logic.
“I said they wouldn’t judge your actions,” Thatra replied with a grin. “That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t defend themselves. Remember, they’d view your death by their hands as a result of your own aggression. Ultimately, actions are not judged on good or evil, but all actions have consequences.” She eyed the tall entrance, torches hissing and popping in the eerie silence. “Shall we?”
Thatra leading, they made their way down a sandy torchlit trail. Rickety-looking old shacks lined the path, most having sagging, uneven steps leading up to worn doorways, warped from age and lack of upkeep. The wobbly-looking homes were a sharp contrast to the beautiful, well-constructed wall that surrounded the eerily quiet village. In fact, it was too quiet. As far as they could tell, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Xavier snapped his fingers and pointed, drawing the others’ attention towards a flickering light shining off a building just ahead. Rather than riding over to investigate, they decided it was best to wait and see what was approaching. Dismounting, they looked on cautiously.
Around the corner marched two green cloaked figures, each holding torches. Faces shadowed beneath drawn hoods, the figures walked slowly with a sense of quiet purpose. Others came into view, all walking side by side to form two separate columns. Heads down with hands tucked into opposite sleeves, they hummed in some strange, foreign tongue. Thick gold cords were wrapped around their waists, and they wore black leather sandals strapped to their shockingly large feet.
When the final two turned the corner, the lines stopped moving. They turned about, their backs to the building while facing the road. The two with torches walked up and down the line, inspecting as the others kept their heads down.
