Saga of Menyoral: Hard Luck

by Ray, M. A.

  His face was dead calm when he plowed his fist into Jones’s burgeoning beer gut, and when the guy doubled over he bent, grabbed Jones around the knees, and flipped him over onto his back. The soldier wheezed. Vandis straddled his chest. Before he could even raise his hands, Vandis grabbed a fistful of his short hair and started working the head, slamming it repeatedly into the packed dirt. “We don’t touch little girls,” he said evenly, dropped Jones’s head, and methodically rearranged the face.

  “Vandis,” he heard, eventually. When he turned his head, there was Dingus, hump-shouldered at the front of the crowd, gazing at him out of round, scared eyes. “Please stop.”

  He sat back on his heels. Jones shifted feebly, without even the strength to cower or moan. “Why?”

  “’Cause, uh—” The boy swallowed hard. “Here’s Kessa,” he said.

  She stood beside Dingus, and she couldn’t seem to decide where to stare: at Vandis or at Jones. Vandis blew out his cheeks. He'd made matters worse for her by doing this in public. He wished he'd thought for half a moment.

  “Where’s your mother?” he asked her.

  “She’s on her way,” Kessa said, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

  Vandis stood, shaking blood off his hands. “Do you want to kick him in the eggs?” he asked her. “Or are you going to let me have the pleasure?”

  Kessa came over. "Yes, Sir Vandis, I want to."

  He gestured toward Jones, as if to say: be my guest.

  “You were supposed to teach me the sword,” she said thickly, and on sword she gave him such a kick in the fork it lifted his lower body off the ground.

  "Was that why you let him hurt you?" From what Dingus had said, Vandis knew it, but he wanted to hear it from the girl.

  "Yes," she said. "I wanted to learn. Only he didn't show me anything. He just—" She shook her head.

  "Even if he'd been teaching you," Vandis said, "it wouldn't have made things right. There's no way what he did to you could have been anything less than evil."

  She folded her arms, eyeing Dingus, who was trying to blend in and for once, failing miserably. "He said he wouldn't tell."

  Vandis patted her awkwardly on the arm. "Try to forgive Dingus, okay? He did the only thing he could to try to help you. I'm the only one he told, and I'm the one who opened it up for everyone to see. I'm sorry."

  “What am I supposed to do now? Everybody knows I’m—you know—fallen.”

  "I did not think of that." He sighed. "The sword, is that right?" She nodded, and he patted the hilt at his side. "I'll see what I can do," he said, thinking skyward, You.

  She laughed into his mind. Oh, Vandis, how quick you are to blame Me. Just because it makes you a wee bit uncomfortable doesn’t mean I had My hand in.

  If You want to teach me a lesson, why don’t You go ahead and tell me what it is? But She didn’t answer. "Right," Vandis said, scowling, and cast his eyes around for more of the garrison. “You,” he said, pointing, “and you. Clean that up.” Then he jabbed the same finger at Kessa and Dingus, in turn. “You. Come with me. You. Go get her parents.”

  “My mom's right there,” Kessa said with her shoulders folding in, like Dingus, but with an angry frown. When she glanced at Vandis, he read misery all over her pretty face. The mother thundered over, bellowing what Vandis felt certain were imprecations, if he could only understand them. She was certainly about the same size as a thundercloud, and Vandis could see where Kessa had gotten her arms and shoulders.

  I’m in for it, he thought, while Kessa shook her head and started worrying at a fingernail with her teeth, the same way Dingus already was. Hastily, he said, “I want to talk to your dad, too. Is he—”

  “Ha!” the mother shouted. “Not likely. Now Kessa, you tell me what this is all about!”

  “You don’t even know?” Dingus blurted, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, as if to keep anything else from flying out. It was too late.

  “And you! What business do you have with my daughter, you filthy—”

  “Shut up,” Vandis told her coldly. “You don’t talk to anyone of mine like that. If you’d had half an eye out, you would’ve realized what that piece of shit on the ground there was doing to your little girl.”

  "You let him up your skirts, didn't you, girl?"

  For a moment, the question hung in midair. Vandis couldn't have said what would happen next, but then Kessa straightened, looked her mother dead in the eye, and said, "Yes."

  "You'll be sorry, you little whore. They'll all be on you now."

  "Excuse me?" Vandis said, blinking. "Did you just call your daughter a whore?"

  "She spread her legs like one, didn't she? As bad as your father, Miss Kessa No-Name."

  He shut his eyes, then opened them and addressed Kessa. “You’ll need breeches or trousers, and a tunic. A jerkin if you can get one. And you know, whatever…stuff you need. You're coming with me, and I will teach you to wield a sword."

  Kessa's pretty pink mouth rounded in surprise. "Really?" she peeped.

  The mother shouldered between Kessa and Vandis. "Not a chance."

  "You, madam," Vandis said, "are a stone-cold bitch. If you were a man, I'd flatten you."

  "She's not going with you."

  "Do you know, I think we'll leave that to my good friend Galbraith."

  "He's—" Dingus began, and Vandis jumped about a mile.

  "Don't sneak up on me," he gasped, clutching at his chest.

  "But I wasn't—never mind. Lord Galbraith’s on his way down right now."

  "Mood?"

  "Pissed," Dingus said, grimacing.

  Hell, he thought, but out loud he said, “Okay.” He would’ve preferred to face Kerwin without Jones’s blood on his clothes, without Jones’s blood in the dust over there, but he felt the absolute rightness of what he'd done, and he straightened himself as the Lord of the castle came storming through the gap in the training-yard fence, one of his soldiers quick-marching behind.

  “You’re a guest in my home!” Kerwin bellowed. He was in full voice tonight. “Is this all the respect you have to show for our friendship? Is this the respect you show my authority here?”

  “I regret to inform you, you had a discipline problem in your garrison,” Vandis said. “I dealt with it. I didn’t intend to step on your toes in the discharge of my duty as a Knight of the Air, but I won’t apologize either. I want this girl for a Squire, and your man was treating her in a manner that would shame any noble household, let alone yours. Kessa, come here, please."

  "Don't you dare," the mother hissed, but Kessa went around her and came to stand next to Vandis, bobbing a polite curtsy to Kerwin.

  "M'lord."

  "Kessa, please explain to Lord Galbraith—"

  "That won't be necessary," Kerwin said hastily, looking at the girl. There was a reason Vandis counted him a friend. "Take her, Vandis, but go and make trouble for someone else, if you please. Gods know I have enough trouble collecting the tax due to me without you around."

  "You know I'd never encourage them not to pay." Actually, he encouraged the opposite in Kerwin's case. Lord Galbraith was one of the good ones.

  "Of course not." Kerwin smiled. "Be that as it may, your very presence excites the dissatisfied. Farewell, Vandis."

  "Until next time," Vandis said, making Kerwin groan theatrically. "Dingus. Fetch the kit."

  "Yes, Vandis." Dingus disappeared.

  "Kessa. Go get what you need. If you're not at the postern gate in an hour, I'll come looking."

  "Okay," she said breathlessly. "Oh, wow—"

  "Let me hear 'Yes, Vandis.'"

  "Yes, Vandis, I'll hurry, I promise!" She ran.

  In half of that hour, Vandis was through the postern and on his way down the low motte to the road, two Squires in tow, and with a peculiar spring in his step. They walked the mile or so to Galbraith Town, and then a few miles beyond. Once they passed out of sight of the castle, Kessa burst into a frantic stream of chatter and ques
tions; Vandis thought it best to let her walk some of that off before they tried to sleep.

  "I've never camped before. Is it fun?" she asked eagerly when they stopped for the night, in a little clearing about half a mile off the road. Dingus, who'd been quiet even for him, immediately got down to digging the fire pit.

  "Fun or not, get used to it," Vandis told her. "Watch Dingus now." He started a running commentary on camp setup, reinforced by Dingus's quick, exact work.

  "You're good at this stuff," she said, smiling at Dingus. He shrugged and settled Vandis's bedroll on a thick pad of pine needles covered with a blanket, then went on to his own.

  "May I keep my blanket, please, Vandis?"

  "Yes, of course." Vandis made a mental note to buy a new bedroll for Dingus. Maybe he'd be able to find one long enough this time.

  Dingus nodded thanks and rolled out the bedroll directly on another pad of needles and the blanket on the third. "This one's yours," he told Kessa.

  "Oh, okay." She nodded, too. "Looks comfy."

  "Thank you, Dingus," Vandis prompted.

  "Thanks, Dingus."

  The boy sat back on his heels. "You're welcome."

  "This is Dingus's job. A Squire's job. Camp, kit, and meals: mine, his, and yours. Until you can handle them to my satisfaction, you will help Dingus to discharge these duties in any way he requires. Dingus is an experienced ranger. He knows what he is doing, and what needs to be done. You will show him the respect he has earned. If you have a problem with any of his instructions, you will not argue, but bring your issues to me later. In all matters, my word is absolutely final. If I tell you do something, you will jump to it. Is that clear?"

  "Uh-huh—I mean, yes, Vandis."

  He sent her a curt nod, sat down on his bed, and started unlacing his boots.

  "Vandis?"

  "What is it, Dingus?"

  "Are we doing stories tonight?"

  He thought about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to sit through three of them. "I'll tell one," he decided. "Then we sleep. It's been a long day." Vandis pulled off his boots and told Margaret Dragonslayer, Dingus's version, mostly to Kessa's sparkling eyes. She sat with her hands clasped around her shins, rapt; Dingus rested back, propped on his elbows, one knee up. He looked relaxed, but Vandis knew better. He bit at one of his fingernails until it bled, and then stuck the fingertip in his mouth until it stopped. He fidgeted with pine needles. Did he think anything was going to change?

  "That was great!" Kessa said when Vandis had finished.

  "It is a great story." He tipped Dingus a wink and got half a smile in return. It was something. "See you two in the morning."

  Kessa got into the bedroll Dingus had given her. Vandis stripped off jerkin and tunic and got into his own. "Thank you, Vandis," she said. "For everything."

  "All in a day's work," he said awkwardly.

  Dingus still sat on his blanket, arms draped over his knees, staring into space. Oh well. He was still, at least. Vandis shut his eyes, letting himself drift into that timeless, warm place between sleep and waking.

  “Hey Vandis?”

  “Ugh.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  Vandis groaned, rubbing his face, and opened his eyes. Dingus was a shadow in front of the lowering fire. “Do what?”

  “I didn’t think—” The boy took a deep breath. “I didn’t know you’d beat on him like that. Why’d you do it?”

  “Properly focused violence,” Vandis said. “It’s not my favorite tool, but it’s pretty effective.”

  “But—”

  “I did what I had to do. No more, no less. Understand?”

  “No.”

  “Well, think about it.” As a dismissal, Vandis rolled to his side and shut his eyes again. He heard Dingus let out a sigh, and then shift to lie down on his blanket. He didn’t wait for his boy’s breathing to settle. He slid himself right down into sleep, and if Dingus had any more questions, he didn’t know about them.

  The Banner

  northern Wealaia, near the border with Green Mountain

  No bones about it, Kessa slowed them down considerable. It shouldn't have taken them a week to get near the border, Dingus was sure of that. He really did like her. Even though she’d been stupid about Everett she was pretty okay. She had at least a little sense anyways, and he was positive she had more aches than she knew what to do with, but she didn’t bitch about hiking all day and sleeping rough at night. She didn’t know much woodcraft, that was for sure. His littlest finger bone knew more than she did. It wasn't her fault, her being a castle girl and all, and never camping even once before him and Vandis came along.

  Still…it wasn’t her fault but, well, he didn't know if he really liked her being a Squire. She worked his nerves like a master. She talked when he was enjoying the quiet. She walked loud and scared all the game. Showing her how to build a fire, every time one had to be built, took forever. She couldn't cook, so he was teaching her that, too.

  She kept touching him. It made him feel like a creep, and when she hugged him, he wanted to shove her away. He begged her to stop and she went away crying, and the next day kept on like he never said a word.

  The other thing was Vandis. He’d kind of got used to Vandis being all for him. No matter how untrue it was, sometimes it’d felt like for his teacher he was the only thing in the world. Felt good, too, even when he messed something up and Vandis jumped all over him, on account of it mattered, really mattered to Vandis, what he did and how. Felt different when it wasn’t kin. He never felt like Vandis didn't want him, but a lot of Vandis's Dingus Time was now Kessa Time.

  Also, there was sword practice, which Kessa was crazy for, but Dingus could take or leave—and he’d rather leave. Vandis called Kessa “a natural”. He didn’t call Dingus that, no-how. Dingus knew what he was doing, but he also knew exactly how strong he was. Vandis didn’t know either thing about him. He’d gotten finished with his turn a moment ago. Vandis had a broken stick and a frustrated look. Dingus had bruises.

  “You’ve got to hit me,” Vandis said, once Dingus had slumped down against a tree, dejected and sore. “Your granddad told me you’d learned a few things, so you know you have to come at me like you mean it! Hell, come at me at all!”

  “But I don’t mean it,” he protested.

  “You gotta pretend,” Kessa said helpfully.

  “Mind your own beeswax,” Vandis told her, and then went on. “She’s right, though. If that’s what it takes, you’ve got to convince yourself—”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Dingus said to the ground, rubbing a big mark on his arm. It’d be sore for days. I could go at Everett, he thought.

  Vandis asked, “What would your grandfather say if he could see you now?”

  “He’d say it’s better to stand a couple hundred feet off and kill your enemies in peace,” Dingus snapped. Grandpa would say that, and had.

  Vandis snorted. “Well, that’s fair, but you won’t always get the chance to stand a couple hundred feet off—which you ought to know by now.”

  That’s what Grandma would say. He’d been working on swordplay with her, way off where nobody could see, since he was too little to realize swords were for killing and that one of them could get seriously hurt. It’d all been practice weapons at first, but when they’d moved to the live steel and he cut her, he tried to back off—until she showed him he wasn’t going to kill her any time soon. He sighed, missing her.

  “You might look like twigs and twine,” Vandis forged on, “but I know you’re strong enough. You’re more than fast enough. Sure as hell, you’re smart enough. Now stop acting like a half-wit and protect yourself. How this goes is entirely up to you.”

  Dingus sighed again, switched his stick to his left hand, and got up with the right behind his back. He put himself sidewise to Vandis.

  “You’re not even right-handed?” When Dingus shrugged—he didn’t favor either hand, but he guarded with the left—Vandis exploded. “What do I have to do to
get you to take this seriously? Do I have to come at you with steel?”

  “If we got to, let’s do it already. Rather be on the road.”

  Vandis scowled and came after him, thrusting the stick-sword out for a jab. This time, instead of taking it in the side, Dingus stepped to the right, got his own stick under Vandis’s, and twisted them together like Grandma showed him. Vandis’s eyes went wide and his stick went flying.

  “Kessa,” Vandis said, without looking away, “get my stick.” Dingus raised his eyebrows: see? And Vandis glared at him. Dingus rolled his eyes and sent Vandis’s stick flying away three more times, even though he came on three different ways.

  “Now can we go?” he asked.

  Vandis growled. “Why’s your hand behind your back?”

  “Right’s my cut hand.”

  “Your hand’s not cut.”

  “Not cut like that. Cut like this.” He took it out and demonstrated: cut, cut. “Guard,” he said, raising the stick in his left to guard position. “Cut. So can we go?”

  “You aren’t supposed to be able to do that,” Vandis said, but he didn’t sound surprised.

  He shrugged again. “Not really supposed to use a bow either, but they don’t bitch so much. It’s good for hunting. Sword’s different.”

  Vandis went over and picked up his stick, and then got another. “How so?”

  Dingus rubbed his smooth chin. “If you can cut someone down face-to-face, how’s he better than you? They don’t want you to know how.” He sagged a little, but took the second stick Vandis shoved at him. “It’s been an hour already.”

  “Show me,” Vandis demanded.

  “Fine,” Dingus said, and showed him. By the time Vandis was satisfied, there were bruises on top of the bruises Dingus gave him. Dingus got four new ones and a broken stick. Vandis still scowled at him, fixing him with a glare that burned to the bone.

  “Why’d you let me beat the shit out of you for an hour a day before you showed me that?”

  Dingus spread his arms, still holding his stick and a half. “You know why. I’m not supposed to—”

  “That’s a load. ‘Supposed to’ didn’t stop you learning to read.”