Endric had the advantage of speed. He combined that with knowledge gained from years working with his brother, and now he wondered how he would fare against Pendin after the last year spent practicing mostly with his father.
Pendin tipped his head in a slight nod.
Endric waited, holding his practice stave ready. As Pendin darted forward in attack, Endric stepped to the side, blocking the thrust, feeling his hand forced down by the sheer strength Pendin possessed.
He blocked a few more thrusts, noting the catah Pendin utilized, remembering the time when he had been taught the same technique. The defense for it was straightforward, and Endric danced back, blocking Pendin's attack. Endric slipped, and he nearly stumbled, and as he did, Pendin slipped beneath his defenses, striking him on the arm. A satisfied smile spread across Pendin's face.
Endric steadied himself and threw himself forward. He attacked in a flurry of movements. He darted through the catahs, his sword moving as quickly as he could control, and he struck Pendin three times quickly, once on each arm and once on his back as Pendin spun, trying to escape.
Endric took a step back, bringing his practice sword up once more, nodding to his friend.
“You’ve gotten good,” Pendin said.
“And you’ve gotten slow.”
Pendin shook his head. “I haven't been hit in over a year while practicing.”
Endric hadn't seen Pendin practicing, but his boast was unsurprising. Most within the Denraen enjoyed taking time to practice, honing their abilities, perfecting the use of the sword. Few of the Denraen ever had need for it—patrols were mostly free of conflict—but that didn't change the fact that they all felt compelled to improve. That practice had likely saved his life when facing the Deshmahne. Had he not practiced as often as he did, he wondered if he would've survived.
Pendin lunged forward in attack once more. Endric blocked, this time twisting as he did, allowing Pendin to drive his sword down and away. He spun, swinging twice more, catching Pendin on both his legs before his friend could react.
Pendin bit back an irritated sound. He attacked again, powerful sweeps with his sword, but Endric caught each one. He deflected Pendin, dancing back in a defensive catah before starting forward on the offensive once more.
Endric used a series of movements that his father had shown him, and it was clear that Pendin had not seen it before. Endric jumped back, blocking Pendin’s attack before starting forward, repeating the same pattern that he'd attacked with.
Pendin seemed to understand, and on his subsequent attack, Endric faced the same attack he’d used on Pendin. This time, he demonstrated the defense, using what his father had taught him. He added a flourish of his own, blocking as he did.
The practice session went on like that for a while longer. Endric began demonstrating more and more forms that Pendin’s poor defense revealed he’d not seen before. With each one, Endric went through them several times before moving into the defense, demonstrating that as well.
At the end of their session, Pendin lowered his stave and nodded to his friend. “You’ve definitely improved. Sometimes, you move faster than I can follow.”
“Practicing with Dendril forces you to improve.”
“You’ve got to be getting close to beating him.”
Endric shook his head. He couldn't imagine getting close enough to his father to actually defeat him. Each time he faced his father, he was presented with new techniques that he had never seen before, new forms and patterns that his father demonstrated, each one complex and difficult to counter. “I think it's safe to say that I have quite a bit more to learn before I can truly challenge my father.”
Pendin laughed before looking over Endric’s shoulder. “It looks like I'm not the only one who will get embarrassed tonight.”
Endric looked around, noting the men watching them. He hadn't paid any attention while he and Pendin had been working, not noticing how others began watching them. Now that they were here, Endric realized he would be responsible for practicing with these men. If it were like other patrols had been on, the commanding officer remained willing to practice until the last willing man had his chance.
It meant he was in for a long night.
Endric awoke sore. He had practiced until well into the night, darkness having spread around them, nothing more than the lights of their fire to guide him as he continued working with the men of the regiment. When no others came, he staggered to his tent and fell quickly into sleep.
Now that it was morning, he helped break the camp, doing his part to break down and store the tents, saddling horses, and preparing for the day's ride. Pendin stretched and winced as he helped as well.
He glanced over to Endric, a sheepish expression on his face. “I can't believe you don't hurt this morning.”
“I would've had to have gotten hit to hurt.” His muscles were sore, and he ached a little bit, but not like after facing his father. After those practice sessions, he often was nursing a minor wound, usually from a spot his father's sword had slashed. This was simply soreness from the exertion, not so much from an injury.
“You don't have to taunt me with it. After you, I didn't get hit again.”
Endric nodded. He noted that Pendin had moved off to the side and had begun working with others, most of the time after they had had their shot with Endric. The only man of the regimen to even have given him something of a challenge had been Pendin, and even that had not been much.
Part of him regretted the fact that he didn't have his father with him to continue working with him, continuing to challenge him. Yet, working with the men, demonstrating different patterns, helped him as well. He had to know them better to teach them effectively.
They finished breaking camp, and Listain came over to Endric. “We will reach Laurent today. I suggest we camp there for the night.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Endric asked.
Listain frowned. “I thought it courtesy, given that I have asked you to lead this expedition.”
Endric nodded. Laurent was two days out from Vasha. It was a fair-sized city that had often supplied the Denraen on the way south. Endric was familiar with it and could imagine the taunting Pendin would do as they headed into the city. Much like with other places, Pendin had memories of Endric's misdeeds in Laurent.
“How long do you intend to remain in Laurent?” Endric asked.
Listain shook his head. “I don't expect we’ll be there for long. I intend to wait to meet with my asset, and then we can continue our travel south.”
Listain didn't say anything more as they continued their preparations. The man mounted, and this time Endric led, following the curve of the road as it wound south. Listain remained to his left, generally silent next to him, keeping to himself. Every so often, he would glance up, almost as if a thought had come to him, before staring back at the road. Pendin stayed near Endric, riding silently.
“What do you know about Urik?” Endric asked as they rode.
Listain glanced over. “You know him as well as I.”
“I doubt that. You probably learned more than I can of the man.”
Listain’s brow furrowed, and he stared straight ahead. “What I learned didn’t help.”
“You investigated him?”
“We look into every man of the Denraen.”
“And?”
“Urik lost his family. He blames the Deshmahne. What more do you need to know?”
“I thought it would be helpful to know what he did before he came to the Denraen. How did he train with the historians and then leave?”
“The guild keeps their secrets. You will have to ask your historian friend.” With that, Listain fell silent.
The day passed like that. They stopped near a small stream, long enough for the horses to drink and the men to refill water skins. They took a brief respite and dug into their supplies, eating jerky and dried bread, and then continued on, making their way slowly south, away from Vasha.
A
bout midday, Endric heard a soft howl and sat up stiffly in his saddle.
“What is it?” Pendin asked.
Endric shook his head. It sounded like a merahl, but they shouldn't be this far south. If they were, what did that mean? Did the Antrilii move south again? Had the creatures they tracked come south once more? The sound came again, and he forced himself to ignore it, deciding it was nothing more than a wolf.
Endric stared at the mountain range to the north. In the distance, he could almost imagine Vasha, could almost see where it rose, the terraces disrupting the otherwise smooth climb of the peaks. Every so often as they rode, he hazarded a glance back, thinking that Senda was up in the mountains now and hoping she’d find the notice he’d left there for her. Listain doubtlessly had assignments for her when she returned to the city. At least in that, he was able to feel that she would be safe and not have to venture out again.
It was late in the day when they reached Laurent.
The city was outside of any of the northern nations. It was not a part of Thealon, and it was not a part of Gom Aaldia. Yet, unlike Rondalin, it was not its own nation state. Laurent was simply a city near the protections of Vasha, defended as well as it could be by the Denraen.
It was a large city, one that sprawled. Homes were arranged around the outskirts, some with stretches of farmland. At this point in the fall, many had been harvested, but a few crops remained. They passed through these outer homes on their way into the heart of the city.
These transitioned to two-story buildings, constructed mostly of wood. Pendin chuckled as they passed an inn that Endric had experience with. Beyond the taverns and inns, they passed some of the city shops. These were arranged neatly, storefronts with brightly colored signs, some with windows showing off items inside, all with doors closed at this time of the evening. Deeper in the city was the city center, where the ruling council presided.
Listain turned to him, nodding. “We can gather supplies, but we will camp outside of the city. That's where we'll wait.”
“We could stay in the city,” Endric offered.
Listain shook his head. “We don't have funds to stay in taverns every city or village we stop in. We need to preserve what we do have for supplies as well as the transport.”
Endric saw the sense in that but thought that it might be nice to have another night in bed—but he wouldn't argue with Listain. He led the men through the city, leaving Listain to meet with his asset while Endric helped get the camp established. Much like the night before, men quickly set it up. Once established, Pendin grabbed the practice staves and nodded to Endric.
Endric looked around at the men. Those who had finished with their assignments watched, and he realized that they were waiting for he and Pendin to practice. Endric had little doubt that he would have another night of long practice ahead of him.
He sighed to himself. This was how he could lead.
As he started through his patterns, he wondered: What would they find when they reached the south? What would happen when they encountered the Deshmahne?
Perhaps it was good they were able to train with the soldiers, but it wouldn’t matter. Endric wasn’t skilled enough to stop the Deshmahne. How would these Denraen survive against them?
16
Listain returned late in the night.
Endric heard it as a soft clapping of hooves and awoke, crawling out from his tent. He stood and stretched beneath the dark sky. Their campfire had dwindled to little more than embers that left a thin trail of smoke drifting lazily, and a man named Reginald stood watch, staring into the night. With the size of their party, Endric doubted anyone would challenge them, at least not here. As they neared the south, he would need to be more careful. He didn't know the details of how Andril had died—it was a question he would need to ask Listain, especially if Endric intended to make certain that the men remained safe—but he suspected they would need to be better prepared once they reached the southlands for the possibility of attack.
He felt a hand on his elbow and turned.
Endric’s breath caught. “Senda?”
She stood outlined against the night. Her short brown hair hung to her shoulders. Her eyes were cloaked in shadows, and she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him.
Endric didn't hesitate, not worrying about how the men of the regiment would react to knowing that he embraced another of the Denraen. He was simply happy to see her again, both shocked and unsurprised by the fact that she was here.
“How is it that you're here?” He glanced around, noting Listain crawling into his tent and understanding. “You left word to find you, but—”
Senda frowned. “I left what?”
Endric barely heard. “Where have you been? Are you the asset Listain needed to meet?”
“Is that what he called me?”
“I didn't expect him to have you meet us here.”
Senda nodded to the fire, and Endric followed her to it, building it back up before taking a seat on the ground. He took her hand, holding onto it, and they sat quietly for a while, listening to the crackling of the flames, comforted by each other's presence.
After a while, Endric brooked the silence. “Where have you been?”
Senda glanced over at Listain’s tent and let out a soft sigh. In the firelight, Endric noted that blood stained one of her sleeves. What had she encountered? What danger had she faced that injured her?
“I suppose there's no harm in telling you now, especially since you’re heading south with Listain.”
“Only because my father assigned us to travel south,” Endric said. “It's his way of getting us out of the city. He had word of Urik in Thealon. That’s why I was trying to find you.”
Senda kept her gaze on Listain’s tent. “It is true.”
Endric frowned.
“That's where I've been. Listain heard word that Urik was sighted in Thealon about the same time as Dendril got the report. He sent me to Thealon, wanting me to determine whether it was him, and if it was, to place our assets around him so that we can ensure he remains where we can find him.”
“You've been to Thealon and back?” The timing seemed impressive. She would've had to have ridden hard from Vasha and then back to them.
“Listain was concerned that he wouldn't have answers before he was in the south. He asked me to find what I could and bring word to him.”
“Was it him?”
“Endric—”
Endric shook his head. “I'm not going to go after him. My father has seen to that. Before going south, all I want to know is that it really was Urik and if it was, whether you managed to isolate him.”
Senda nodded slowly. “It was him. The Ur and the priests limit how much we can act in Thealon. If we attempt anything, it will start a conflict that would be dangerous.”
Endric frowned. Urik had chosen well. Hiding out in Thealon was a sure way of making certain the Denraen couldn't get to him. And if he did oppose the Deshmahne, the priests might allow him to get answers about their movements.
Urik was clever. Endric hadn't doubted that, especially since he had managed to surprise Listain, and Listain was incredibly intelligent, as well. Urik had shown more than intelligence. He’d proven a sneaky sort of cleverness. It was one that Endric hadn't expected of the man, but that made him even more dangerous.
“Were you able to arrange your assets to observe him?”
A troubled look crossed Senda’s face. She bit her lower lip the way she did when something bothered her. “I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I'm not entirely sure that Urik is unaware of my presence.”
“Would Urik have known that you worked with Listain?”
She shook her head. “I don't know. It's possible he would. He was high enough ranking that he would have access to many of Listain’s contacts.”
Senda fell silent for a while, and Endric allowed himself to enjoy her company and not push her for more information. When she’d been in Vasha
, she had been unwilling to share what she felt she couldn’t, regardless of his rank.
“Did you encounter Ravers?” Endric asked.
Her brow furrowed. “What do you know about them?”
“Only that they’ve been attacking in the north. Listain worries about what they’re after, but Dendril doesn’t seem as concerned.”
She sniffed. “That was the other thing I was trying to determine but didn’t manage to do so.”
“Why?”
She arched a brow at him. “Why? Because Listain asked, that’s why.”
Which meant Listain was more concerned about the Ravers than he let on. What had he heard?
Maybe he’d heard nothing. That would be enough to bother Listain.
“Did you come across them?” Endric asked.
“Once. There were too many for me to do much more than scout.”
They fell into silence again, and this time, there was a slight tension between them.
“I went to the University to try and find you.”
“Oh, Endric.”
“Pendin led me through the mines. I met his mother.”
“And what did Elizabeth tell you?”
“That I wasn’t smart enough to counter Urik. That he plans too well. And that she believes how he raised awareness of the Deshmahne to be of value.”
“That sounds like her.”
“How did you get involved with Elizabeth?”
Her gaze drifted to Listain’s tent.
“Listain? I thought she brought you to him?”
Senda shook her head slightly. “When I first came to Vasha, he had me train in the university.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought it would help me with the Denraen.”
“But why would Listain even have known to help?”
“Why? Because Listain is my uncle.”
17
As they made their way south, Endric occasionally watched Senda, noting the confident way she rode and how she didn’t appear as fatigued as he would have expected. It felt good being reunited with her. He trusted her and knew that she was serving on behalf of the Denraen, but when she was gone for as long as she had been, he couldn't help but begin to feel some worry. Would that be all they ever had? Senda sent one way while he was sent another, leaving both of them to worry about the other?
Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2) Page 14
