Midshipwizard Halcyon Blithe

by James M. Ward

  "I strive to be half the man he was," Halcyon replied.

  "Quite right, Mr. Blithe. Well said. If I don't miss my guess, Rear Admiral Frank Blithe, the now commander of the Sea Dragon, gave you this blade and taught you a few things, didn't he?"

  "Yes, sir, he did," Halcyon replied smiling.

  "Well, we will see that you put those lessons and the ones I'll be giving you to good use." The captain stopped his maneuvers and looked Halcyon straight in the eyes. He wasn't smiling now. "Mr. Blithe, your family history is long and respected in this man's navy. That respect puts a great deal of weight on your shoulders. The fact that I like and admire several of your uncles does not mean that any of your actions will be viewed more favorably than those of any other officer on my ship. I expect you to work harder than most because you have a proud history of men and women named Blithe giving their lives in service to king and country. All of your ancestors are watching you now. Do your best for them and yourself. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

  Halcyon Blithe wasn't sure what type of response to give to the captain. The midshipwizard didn't want the respect for his family to give him any advantages on board the ship. He just wanted to do the best job he could. There was a lot he could say about his family and what he hoped to accomplish. At that moment, he didn't think the captain or the other midshipwizards wanted to hear those words.

  "I understand your meaning, sir," Halcyon said, tipping his head in acknowledgment.

  The captain grinned again and handed the hilt of Halcyon's sword back to him.

  "Jolly good then. Sheath it and return to the line. Carry on."

  "Aye, aye, sir," Blithe replied.

  "Before we begin stretching, I want to speak on Maleen shapechangers and what you need to think about when battling them. Our duty station takes us into blockade action in front of the Port of Ordune. The enemy fleet will have shapechangers among their officers and marine battle units. Most of you should know by now that blows to the head, arms, and legs of a shapechanger have little effect."

  "Sir." Jacom Boatson raised his voice. "How do we recognize a Maleen shapechanger among the rest of the enemy? Won't they look like a human?"

  "An excellent question, Midshipwizard Boatson," the captain replied. "In the heat of battle, shapechangers quickly reveal their true nature. Look to their hands and face. Their hands sprout huge patches of hair and their face sprouts two more eyes. I haven't seen it myself, but I'm told this always happens as they fight for their lives. So, remember, you must concentrate your blows toward the trunk and neck of a shapechanger's body. Later in the practice session today, we will contend with each other and only allow body hits to score points. Let's begin stretching, everyone. Blithe, you watch Mr. Haywhen and imitate him."

  Blithe saw them all go through the oddest gyrations, with even the captain participating. He'd never witnessed such goings-on. His expression of amazement must have shown on his face as the captain watched him.

  "Officers," the captain said, moving back and forth in front of the two lines of midshipwizards. "The dawn finds your muscles particularly cold and stiff. Before practice and indeed before any battle, one should stretch one's muscles. Cold arms and legs don't serve as well once the action begins. These maneuvers might seem silly to you, but I assure you they are a good idea."

  After what seemed like forever to the excited Blithe, the last of the arm-twisting and leg-stretching was over. Halcyon knew there were parts of his body that needed some strengthening. His whole left side ached and he hadn't even swung a sword yet.

  "Don battle helms," the captain said while putting on his own. "Take a racked practice sword, and pair off. The largest of you match up with the shortest."

  As the midshipwizards gathered their practice materials, the captain kept up his dialogue. "You all have sheathed swords at your hips because you have to get used to dealing with sheaths during battle. They can get between your legs and hinder you in other ways unless you keep your wits about you.

  "On board the Sanguine during this practice, we pair off with the tallest midshipwizard facing the shortest midshipwizard. Can you tell us all, Officer Blithe, why we do this?"

  Halcyon already noticed that he was the tallest of the group. Until now, it hadn't bothered him at all, as he thought his height would give him an advantage in swordplay.

  Halcyon caught off guard couldn't think of a single reason why he should face the shortest of the others. He stood there with his mouth open.

  "Midshipwizard." The captain's voice was reproachful. "Timing is important. You will find your enemy won't wait for you to come up with good answers on how to kill him. Everyone is now ready and Mr. Haywhen faces you Mr. Blithe. Officer Haywhen, why are you paired with Mr. Blithe?"

  Tupper Haywhen shouted out, "In the heat of battle I will have to face men larger than myself. I must get used to this fact and deal with it or die. Also, large men just as often have to face much shorter opponents and they should know how to manage the smaller target area, sir!"

  "Quite correct," the captain said, standing at the bow of the ship, positioning himself at the top of the group. Raising his hand, he magically caused a log to hurl itself into the sea. "Mr. Blithe, be good enough to strike that wood with your magic."

  Floating in the water not thirty yards away, the log appeared to be an easy target to strike. Halcyon raised his hand and, using magical resources, blasted the log with lightning. The bolt arched out from his hand, struck the log, and caused it to burst up into the air. It splashed back into the water about fifty yards away.

  "Jolly good, Mr. Blithe, again, if you please," the captain ordered.

  Once again, Halcyon blasted the log, now sixty yards from the ship, and again it rose into the air. The burnt wood hit the water roughly seventy-five yards away.

  "Make an effort one more time if you please, Mr. Blithe."

  Halcyon knew that the log was probably out of range and his inner resources of magic were almost gone, but an order was an order.

  He tried again, opening up his hand and using all his willpower.

  A weak small charge of magical lightning did indeed strike the log and splinter it.

  All the other midshipwizards gasped at the display of power. A typical midshipwizard couldn't send out more than a second blast of magic in an hour's span of time.

  "Well done, Mr. Blithe." The captain's tone was a praising one. "That display of magical strength impressed all of us. I suspect our Lieutenant Commander Giantson will be equally impressed during your wizard training session. Your talents will serve you well in battle. Now, you all see that our Mr. Blithe is quite out of arcane energies and stands arcanely defenseless. Any one of you could now attack him, causing Mr. Blithe great harm. Indulge me, sir; I'm going to throw mystic bolts at you. These will only sting if they strike you. Defend yourself."

  The captain didn't even give Blithe a second. He began gesturing and hurling spikes of energy at Blithe.

  Halcyon was able to move his practice sword to intercept the blasts. From the on-guard position, his sword moved into the prime defensive position, covering the left side of his body and stopping a spike with the metal of the blade. His sword flashed to the second position, covering the right side of his body and striking the second bolt. In quick succession, the saber moved to tierce, then quarte, and then to quinte to block magical spikes; the final one aimed at his head. He blocked all the magical spike attacks even though he was dog-tired from his own spellcasting.

  "Huzzah." Many of the other midshipwizards raised their blades, cheering Blithe's impressive display of swordsmanship.

  "Well done, Blithe, jolly good." The captain's words praised Halcyon. "There are few here who can catch all of my bolts. As wizards, we can kill men with our magic, but that magic doesn't last us long in the heat of battle. Common wisdom says that Blithe here won't be able to cast spells for at least an hour. What does he do then? He must rely on his good right arm, of course. In the weeks to come I will have you battle
left-handed as well as right-handed. In the heat of the boarding action, you must be able to defend yourself if your right arm takes a wound. We practice with the sword because it's a gentleman's weapon and in the king's navy we are all officers, gentlemen, and gentleladies." The captain nodded in the direction of the females in the mix of midshipwizards.

  "There are advantages in its use over a blast pike. We'll deal with those advantages in later sessions."

  Two lines of twelve midshipwizards faced each other across the forecastle. There were oars and ropes lying on the deck between them. Debris twisting about wasn't usually tolerated on a warship. Just then, Blithe noticed that the longboat and jolly boat were gone.

  "On guard!" the captain shouted.

  Twenty-four bodies turned sideways. Right legs positioned in front of their left ones with their right foot pointed straight at their opponent. The left leg positioned behind the right, with the left foot at a ninety-degree turn to provide stability. Constantly maintaining about a shoulder's span of distance between the feet was the norm for bladework. Chest and head were straight up and down with no leaning toward the opponent. The saber wielder's left arm bent and the left fist remained constantly positioned on the hip at the belt line. Each of the weapon hands held the practice saber easily in front of their bodies.

  The captain walked up and down between them. "Mr. Sure-hand, move that left foot. Mr. Grunseth, stop leaning. Mr. Murdock, widen your stance, it should be as wide as your shoulders. Try to remember you are a good-sized king's officer."

  Halcyon stood on guard. From the age of ten, he'd taken instruction in several different types of swords, but especially the naval saber. He enjoyed the use of the blade, and he'd taken to practicing with it a lot, as he never thought he would come into any magical skills when at twelve and thirteen he hadn't grown the white hair that all his brothers grew when they reached the age of twelve.

  "The naval saber is a military weapon with a history going back as long as there were warships," the captain said with relish. He drew his own practice saber and advanced quickly down the line between the midshipwizards. His eyes caressed the blade and there was a clear love of the weapon shining on his face.

  Halcyon knew that each of these practice blades would be the same. The grip lay under the protection of a large bell-shaped guard of thick steel. Through the ages, guards of that style protected the hand and could smash the body and face of a foe at need. The blade was thirty-four inches long with a thick triangle shape to the entire length of the weapon. Holding the blade straight out from the body, one could see the flat end of the triangle. This dull end of the blade edge was at the bottom of the weapon. Forte was the name for the lower third of the blade by the hilt. That section of the weapon handled the parries. Foible, the top third of the blade, was the portion making the attack.

  "The saber in your hand is perfect for hacking at the enemy with its long edge," the captain explained. "Experienced officers can get a lot out of using the point of the weapon as well." Coming to the end of the line, he turned and shouted, "Lunge!"

  They all lunged and held that position so the captain could check the final positions of their bodies. They were all supposed to have their right knees bent at a ninety-degree angle while their left legs trailed straight back behind them. All of them were letter-perfect and needed no correction from the captain.

  "Retreat, on guard," the captain ordered.

  They all took a step back and assumed the upright guard position with their saber tips aimed at the hearts of their opponents.

  Now, at the other end of the line, the captain continued speaking. "In practice we use a special battle helm and wear a gauntlet. Even a dull weapon can cut open the top of the hand or take out an eye. Your weapon's guard only protects part of your hand, and clever bladesmen can cut that hand if you are not careful. In battle, I strongly urge you to continue the use of the gauntlet. Your hand sweats and a good leather-backed gauntlet can mean the difference between keeping the weapon and losing it in battle. Advance, cut, retreat!" The captain shouted maneuvers they were all supposed to execute.

  Twelve bodies took a quick step forward, made a cut with their blades as if their foe were in front of them, and then took a quick step back. Each had to navigate around the equipment and rigging lying on the deck. There was still ten feet of deck space between each of the paired saber wielders.

  The captain's reassuring voice was oddly easy to hear even with battle helms on their heads. He again walked between them. "Some say mastering distance between your blade and your foe is all-important. Some say bladework, some say defense and offense of the weapon are the key. I say footwork is the life's blood of perfecting the naval saber and fighting on a ship of the line. We're not dandies in a fencing school. The weapon you hold in your hand is all that's between you and your deaths at the hands of the enemy. We use it on a rolling deck in the heat of battle. Rigging comes crashing down; tight quarters often fill a deck with friend and foe. Blasting-tube fire can cover a deck in wreckage that the fencer must fight around and through. You are tasked to move through all this and fight for your life. Footwork is everything." He'd gained the other end of the line. "Advance, advance, retreat," he ordered.

  The group came forward twice, and then moved back a step. Clawson and Murdock tripped up on whatever was in front of them. The captain shook his head at the two midshipwizards as they recovered and returned to their on-guard positions.

  "Mr. Clawson, Mr. Murdock, I trust you both realize," the captain chided, "if you can't manage your footing in a practice session where everyone is your friend, you certainly can't manage in a real battle. Let's continue.

  "The thrust is more efficient than the cut. Why, you ask? Watch," the captain said while smoothly turning and lunging at a practice dummy placed against the mast. His tip dented the heart of the straw-filled target dummy. "I can pierce his heart before his cut reaches me. However, I have to make sure that my dead opponent doesn't score with that cut anyway. It's not enough to lunge; I have to recover quickly as well. Retreat, retreat, lunge, recover, on guard!" he ordered them all into motion.

  The forecastle was barely wide enough for the orders the captain issued. Halcyon had trouble with them at first, because he'd never been asked to retreat and then lunge before. He noticed that Tupper didn't have any trouble with the maneuvers.

  The captain talked to his sword, clearly admiring the blade as he spoke. "You will experience the cut most often of all the possible sword strokes. Such cuts move best with the upper third of the edge of the saber blade. The sword hand and blade extend toward your opponent. At the moment of contact, the cut completes itself with a downward dip of the thumb and wrist. The snapping action of the blade moves best with a firm follow-through. Try not to be too heavy with your motion so that you aren't unbalanced at the end of your effort. It's not good enough to strike your opponent and then take a cut in return. Dying on your opponent's blade as you kill him isn't the best use of your time or the king's blade." He didn't wait for the laughter to die down at his quip. He just continued talking. "You must always think three moves past your next effort. Advance, cut in second, advance cut in prime," he ordered.

  Halcyon's advances were longer than everyone else's. His steps took him right in front of Tupper. He'd hoped his strides would be a little intimidating to the much younger and shorter boy. Tupper just smiled and tapped Blithe's shoulder with the tip of his own blade.

  "Retreat, retreat, retreat, on guard." The captain ordered the two lines of fencers far back from each other with his instructions. "When defending with the blade, never use the flat if you can avoid it, as this type of action creates a weak parry that can become a mortal thrust all too easily. I'm of the opinion that the tierce parry to the left and the quarte parry to the right can handle almost all attacks made against you. Officer Merand and Officer Boatson disagree with me and come from saber schools insisting on the use of all five parries. You will take some instruction from them in the other parries
just to please them. Retreat in tierce. Retreat in quarte," he ordered.

  Suddenly trumpet blares commanded sail crews to tack to port. Riggers got among the spars and sailors moved on deck to shift the sails. Officer Wily's orders, even from the quarterdeck on the other side of the ship, floated to them carried on the wind. Usually such orders came from commanders beside the wheel on the quarterdeck. Sailors were moving about the forecastle now as they went into the rigging of the foretopsail and topgallant.

  "Don't concern yourself with the crew," the captain noted. "They know enough to ignore us as they tack the ship. I've ordered a few wide ship maneuvers so that we can practice today with a heaving deck under our feet. It should make life very interesting for all of us. Now then, where was I? Oh yes. The moulinet is a circular movement of the blade with the forearm. First toward the body and then away from the body, designed to be an attack at an opponent's head after they have attacked and are off balance. Advance, moulinet," the captain ordered.

  Halcyon wasn't familiar with the term and didn't know exactly what to do. He watched Tupper performing the saber stroke, but still couldn't follow it. He didn't want to stop the captain and ask how to do the passage of arms. He would ask Tupper as soon as they had a moment. The captain was going through the session faster than Blithe liked.

  "In counterattacks," the captain explained, "the stop-point thrust is best, of course. Any opponent displaying wide movements of his arm and blade is ripe for the stop thrust. You extend your saber-blade point forward into your opponent's attack without lunging. Your reach can strike any target, but slicing the sword arm of your opponent is, of course, devastating. Point control is the key to this counterattack." The captain was in the middle of the group now, and he did the maneuver without lunging. The angle of his arm made it clear that he would have been striking his opponent's arm if there had been someone in front of him.