27
“DID YOU WALK OR RUN HERE?” asked Blair as he came up to the spot where Lyric stood waiting for him. They were standing in a small meadow just past the outskirts of the village. A good spot to train without the entire village watching.
“I walked,” said Lyric.
“Run around the village and come back here,” said Blair.
Lyric took off running. He was now used to running, and could go for hours. Running around the village of Middale was nothing to him. By the time Lyric returned, he was hardly breathing heavy.
“Good, you might not have the muscle tone of a warrior yet, but you have stamina. That’ll help,” said Blair. “Now I want you to dance. Have you ever done a simban box step?”
Lyric couldn’t tell if Blair was serious or not. Dance? He was just as crazy as Azina. “No I’ve never danced a simban box step before.”
“Okay. I’ll show you once. Pay attention.” Blair then started humming and moving to an imaginary song.
Lyric watched Blair’s feet and counted the steps, two steps left two steps back one step right one step forward and then turn. One step forward, one step left and then two back and two right then turn.
“Now you do it,” said Blair as he finished moving.
Lyric took a moment to organize the steps in his mind and then he repeated the steps that Blair had shown him.
“Not bad. You got the steps correct, but this time do it lightly. So you’re just barely touching the ground. Pretend you’re a feather.”
Lyric had no clue how to be a feather, so he did the best he could.
Blair stopped him after two steps. “Keep your weight on the balls of your feet. Now from the beginning.”
Again, Lyric started to dance.
“Better, much better. Now keep doing that, but hum along with me,” said Blair before he started to hum a tune.
Lyric wondered if Blair was drunk, but his new instructor seemed very serious and wasn’t slurring. After a while, Blair stopped humming, but he instructed Lyric to keep doing it.
Lyric danced, hummed, danced, and hummed for an hour.
Blair watched Lyric moving. The boy was graceful and he had picked up the steps on the first try. When Blair had been taught it took him a full morning before he could get the steps correct. “Okay, that’s enough dancing for one day. Tomorrow we will learn a different dance step. I want you to run home now. Tomorrow you will run here, no walking.”
Lyric ran home, humming the catchy tune that Blair had taught him.
When he arrived back at Valeria’s house, he found Celine outside waiting for him.
“Well, did Blair beat you good?” she asked.
“No,” said Lyric, “he made me run and dance.”
“Seriously?” asked Celine.
“Yep, I had to dance for over an hour.”
“How strange!” said Celine. “Maybe Blair realized you’re too skinny to be a fighter and he’s secretly training you to become a dancer. You’ll wear a pretty dress and all the boys will want to dance with you.”
“You know, you’re not very funny,” said Lyric with a frown. The image of him wearing a dress and dancing in front of a crowd was now embedded in his mind.
“I am exceedingly funny, Lyric. You are just not sophisticated enough to appreciate the magnificence of my extraordinary wit.”
“You talk funny,” said Lyric.
Celine laughed, “Come on, let’s go down to the pond. You can show me your new dance steps while I pick flowers to match the dress I’m making you.”
“Did I mention that you’re not funny,” scowled Lyric.
Celine winked and giggled then started to run. “Last one there wears a dress.”
Lyric wasted no time, he sprinted off after her. He wasn’t going to give her more reasons to tease him without a fight, or in this case a really fast run. Celine was quick.
Lyric beat Celine to the pond by a few steps. He smiled with satisfaction. Perhaps that would end the dress comments.
“Damn it. I really wanted to watch you dance in a dress,” said Celine with an evil grin.
So much for the dress comments ending. Lyric ignored Celine and sat down beside the water. The sun was nice and hot, not a cloud in the sky.
“Want to go for a swim?” asked Celine.
“I don’t have any other clothes,” said Lyric.
“Since when do you need clothes to go swimming?” asked Celine.
“I’ve never gone swimming with a girl around,” said Lyric nervously.
“I’ve seen everything you’ve got,” replied Celine. “You promise to keep your eyes closed while I get undressed?”
Lyric nodded as tightly clenched his eyes closed. He didn’t want to draw Celine’s wrath by not following her instructions.
“Turn around,” said Celine as she started taking her clothes off.
Lyric turned around and stared into the forest. Was she getting naked? A splash told Lyric that she was now in the water.
“Okay, your turn,” said Celine.
Lyric wasn’t sure if he was allowed to turn around or not so he just started undressing while he stared into the woods. Once he was naked, he turned to the lake. Celine was sitting in the water, covered up to her neck, watching him. “You didn’t turn around,” said Lyric.
“I’m a lady, you aren’t allowed to be peaking at me. You’re a boy, your body is ugly and nobody cares if they see you naked.”
Lyric put his hands in front of his crotch and walked into the water until his privates were covered. “That doesn’t sound very lady like.”
Celine just laughed and splashed him in the face with water before diving under the surface.
Lyric dove after her and caught her by the feet, pulling her back before letting go. Even in the dark water, Lyric could see the pale skin of Celine’s taut bottom. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the water.
“Jerk,” said Celine with a grin. “I could have drowned.”
Lyric shook his head, “No, you’d only drown if I did something like this.” He dove under the water and pulled her down once more, this time he held her knees and peeked at her from the front. Celine was a devil, but she was the prettiest devil he had ever met. Even the princess, or lord daughter, was not as pretty as Celine.
28
LORD LAMAR WALKED INTO HIS WAR ROOM, a spacious room with maps covering the walls and a large round table which dominated the room, and found his daughter and his sister at the table going over the large map of Redfall Estates, his home.
“If we cut these trees down, we can extend this section for more seating,” said Sibylle as she placed a green marker on the map.
“Those trees provide afternoon shade, the elderly guests will need shade,” replied Izzy.
“That is true, I forgot about that,” said Sibylle.
“What are you two ladies up to?” asked Lord Lamar as he walked up to the large table to inspect their work.
“We’re planning the tournament, Father,” said Sibylle.
“Interesting,” replied Lord Lamar. He scanned the map and the sheets of notes they had scattered over the table. “You don’t have a main jousting arena planned?” asked Lord Lamar. Normally the jousting arena was the focal point of a tournament and the first priority on arranging a field.
“Yes, I just hate jousting. You know how many horses are injured during jousts? I can’t imagine having my future husband decided by such a barbaric practice. No, I’ve decided the wedding tournament should be based on the winter solstice tournament.”
Lord Lamar’s eyebrow rose in surprise, “An open tournament with single combat? That is unusual for a significant tournament. I’m not sure the king would approve.”
“Father, you yourself said that you were in charge of the tournament rules. I’m not asking you to fix the tournament or cheat. I just believe that if I am going to go through with this, I have to do it on my own terms. I don’t want the most important week of my life to be something I look back on with rem
orse. I’d rather face the future with resolve and hope. If I must marry, let me at least have a tournament and wedding of my own making.”
Lord Lamar looked into his daughter’s eyes and then over at his sister. He could see that she approved of the idea and expected him to honor his daughter’s request. If an open tournament with no jousting kept Sibylle happy and fulfilled the king demands, he would have to live with that. He already feared her running off to escape her impending marriage, there was no point arguing with her now that she was actively involved with the planning of her own wedding. “I’ll have a messenger notify the king and all the royal families that this will be an open tournament. I’ll have heralds announce the tournament in all the villages and cities on Droll Isle.”
Sibylle hugged her father, “Thank you, Father.”
Lord Lamar looked at his sister who was smiling and nodding her approval of his declaration. Lord Lamar wasn’t sure if it was a wise idea, but he wouldn’t give up having his only daughter loving him just to appease the king. If a royal wanted his daughters hand in marriage, he would have to be the best during the tournament. With his declaration that it was an open tournament, every single man old enough to carry a sword would be competing. Soldiers, sellswords and royals would all have an opportunity. The declaration would likely cause a scandal among the royal families. However, once the announcement was made, the king wouldn’t dare change it. It was by his word that the tournament had been planned, even if it wasn’t planned like his original idea. Lamar wasn’t sure if his daughter knew the chaos and trouble she was causing with her wedding plans.
29
LYRIC DUCKED. THE STOUT STAFF whipped has his head. Dropping down to one knee, Lyric swung his staff at Blair’s knees.
Blair turned and twisted his hands, sending the end of his staff into the ground, Lyric’s staff slammed into his own and bounced off. Blair flicked his wrists again, bringing the opposite end of his staff flying down towards Lyrics head.
Lyric blocked the attack, lunging up as he did so. As Blair had taught him, he tilted his staff to one side so that Blair’s staff would harmlessly slide off to the side and leave Lyric an opening to attack. Lyric spun and whipped his staff around his body, expecting to strike into the exposed side of his opponent.
Blair stepped closer so that his body was right beside Lyric’s. When Lyric twisted around he found an empty space where he thought Blair would be. Instead Blair was inside his guard. A tap to the forehead let Lyric know he would have been smashed in the face with a gauntlet had it been a real fight.
Lyric groaned at the contact. Damn it all. He had almost gotten a hit in on Blair! What had he done wrong? “I screwed up again,” said Lyric in frustration.
“What makes you say that, Lyric?” asked an amused Blair.
“The fact that I can never hit you. You’ve been training me for weeks and I never get better. I can’t hit you at all!”
“Lyric, how long have you been training with a staff?”
Lyric thought about it. Between Azina and Blair it had been a while now. “Over a month, every day, almost six weeks.”
“Tell me, when you watched the students at the war academy, how many were good after six weeks of training?”
Lyric thought back to his days of sneaking around to watch the war academy students training. Most first-year students were horrendous. It took months before they could get all the footwork down. Even longer before they could spar with the older students, to say nothing of the instructors. “They sucked too.”
“Yes, anyone with only a month training shouldn’t score a hit against a good trainer. You doubt yourself, Lyric, but how many attacks did you know before I started training you?”
“Three.”
“And how many different ways to block?”
Lyric visualized his lessons with Azina. They had spent a lot of time on blocking. “The four basic stances.”
“So how many attacks and block do you know now?” asked Blair.
“I can do over a dozen different attack combos and there are three more I haven’t perfected yet that you’ve taught me. You’ve taught me several ways to change stances that make for an almost limitless number of ways to block hits.”
“And you’ve learned all that in a month!” said Blair.
Lyric scratched his head, “When you say it like that, it sounds like I’m a pretty good student.”
“Yes, Lyric, that is what I am trying to tell you. For a skinny little runt with chicken legs and arms a four-year-old girl would be ashamed to have, you are coming along very nicely. Nothing to be ashamed of, in fact you should be proud of the progress you have made.”
“Then how the heck did you avoid that last hit?” asked Lyric with a smile.
“Anticipation. I taught you the steps you used. You know the blocks and counter-attacks, but you are still thinking before you act. I watched your feet and knew what you would do. That makes it easy to counter. Let’s go through the steps in slow motion. I’ll show you what happened.”
Lyric ducked down, moving as slow as he possibly could. This process of going through each mock fight in slow motion seemed strange at first but the more often they did it the more Lyric come to appreciate it as a training tool. By going so slow, Blair was able to talk him through each step, each body position needed for each attack. It also allowed him to show Lyric his mistakes, or in this case not his mistakes but Blair’s counter attacks that simply were better than his attack. Lyric groaned when he watched Blair step close to him while he slowly turned. If Lyric had done any other attack Blair would have been in trouble, but because Lyric had been predictable Blair had easily defeated him that round.
“You see?” asked Blair as Lyric stopped moving and studied his feet.
“Yes,” replied Lyric. “I turned my head too fast. If I’d done the turn properly, I would have seen you stepping in and I could have changed attacks.”
“Exactly,” said Blair. It truly was impressive how well Lyric was picking up the skills that he was taught. Blair knew from talking with Valeria and Azina that he trained twice as long at home after his lessons, but even with all the extra time put in Lyric was showing more than just effort. He had some athletic abilities that had been long hindered by his crippled body. Now that Lyric’s foot was working properly due to Azina’s healer friend the boy was starting to learn how to use his own body. He was still a bit of a runt. Years of malnutrition had left him severely lacking when it came to building muscle but he was noticeably starting to make gains in that department as well. In a few years, Lyric could be a great warrior if he kept at this pace. Of course, the fact that the boy was still scared of his own shadow killed any likelihood of him becoming a warrior. Too many years of being hunted and beaten had left a mark on Lyric. He was a gentle soul and afraid of violence despite his excelling at training. That the boy had found it in himself to help the Lamar girl still amazed Blair. He had seen nothing to promote the idea that Lyric had any courage. Still the fact that he had helped her showed there was potential. Maybe one day the boy would learn not to be afraid. “You can head back now, Lyric. I think I’ll come out to the house tomorrow, save you a trip into town.”
Lyric smiled at his teacher. “You sure seem to be coming out to the house a lot. When we started, you said once a week. Now you come out every other day. That wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone who lives in the woods would it?”
“Lyric, how would you like to have to do a thousand pushups in the bottom of the creek each morning?” asked Blair.
“I don’t think I would like that at all, sir,” replied Lyric, his grin still going ear to ear.
“Then keep your thoughts about my thoughts about a certain someone to yourself. Understood?”
Lyric nodded, trying to hide his grin a little. “Yes, sir. See you tomorrow.” Lyric turned and started heading home before Blair could decide to add any extra punishment for Lyric teasing him about Valeria.
Lyric got only a little way into
the forest when he was stopped by someone sitting on a large rock beside the road. It was Sibylle, the Lord Lamar’s daughter. What was she doing here?
“Hello, Lyric. Remember me?” asked Sibylle.
How could he forget her? Thought Lyric. “Hello, Miss Lamar, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
…
Sibylle could hardly believe her eyes and ears. She knew from talking to some of the villagers that the boy Blair was training was staying out in the country. Middale wasn’t the largest village in the world and its people liked their gossip. So when Blair started getting in shape and spending time training an unknown boy, people started talking about it. When word got back to Sibylle that Blair, one of the previous winners of the winter solstice tournament, was training a young man, she got her hopes up that maybe she had found a potential champion to help her. She had snuck out to the woods and watched the boy being trained and was surprised to see a dark-haired, olive-skinned boy. She couldn’t be sure it was the same boy who had saved her in the woods. This boy was clean and healthy looking, and moved like lightning. The boy she had met in the woods was skinny as a rail, dirty as a pig in rainy field and walked with a limp. Perhaps there was another foreign boy in the village now? But on the second day she had snuck even closer and had heard them talking. She had recognized his voice. This young man was the same skinny runt who had rescued her in the woods, only with about twenty pounds of healthy weight on him, clean clothes and more than one washing. “You look different, Lyric.”
Lyric blushed, “You mean I look clean and the hairs of your nostrils aren’t burning from standing within ten feet of me.”
Sibylle laughed at the honest evaluation of their first encounter, “Let’s just say you clean up nicely. After all, the first time we met you did save my life so I can’t complain about such minor details. Is that why you refused my father’s invitation to ride with us?”
“Yes, you are much to pretty to be seen with a dirty mutt like me. Besides, if I had gotten into your carriage, the smell would likely have killed you. What would be the point of saving you to only torture you to death with such a foul odor?”
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 11
