by CM Raymond
But as he admired the view, a blood-curdling scream cut through the woods. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and he instinctively reached for his spear—which he had inconveniently forgotten in the lean-to. Another cry, equal in intensity as the first echoed in response. Parker relaxed, realizing it was just wild animals performing their own morning rituals.
Maybe there were plenty of reasons to stay within the city walls after all.
“Good morning, lad.” Karl’s voice was extra gruff as the rearick pulled himself from the shelter. “Damn, I haven’t had that good of rest for weeks. Good to be out of the damn-blasted city.”
Karl crouched and poked the fire with a long stick. Before Parker could say “good morning,” the rearick had a fire blazing and was warming his hands over the flames.
“Funny,” Parker said, “I haven’t slept that poorly since… I don’t know when. But it could have been the wild beast snoring in my ear!”
Karl placed a frying pan on the fire and dropped some potatoes and dried meats in. Looking up, he said, “That is the sound of contentment. Have a clear conscience, sleep deep, and snore loud; that’s my motto!”
Parker laughed and joined him by the fire. “Your conscience must be cleaner than a noble woman’s undergarments.”
“Wouldn’t know,” Karl said with a wink. “You?”
The warm food made Parker feel instantly revived, and both of them chewed in silence, but the silence wouldn’t last.
A twig snapped in the woods behind them, and their heads snapped up to attention.
“Ah, it’s nothing. Just some animals. Heard em this morning,” Parker said with a mouth full of breakfast.
But Karl rolled to his feet, pulling his hammer out in front of him. “That ain’t no animal, boy. Grab your weapon!” Karl’s eyes darted back and forth, looking through the branches. “It’s time to see how well you were paying attention.”
****
Hannah closed her eyes, focusing inward. She pushed away her fears and anxieties, letting her training take over.
She opened her eyes, ready for action. This was the hardest task the young magician had ever undertaken. She took a breath, then moved into position.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong move, and she planted her foot squarely on top of Maddie’s.
“Ow,” the young girl said.
Hannah stepped forward when she was supposed to step back. It was a dance move she had gone over a dozen times, and yet Hannah still got it wrong. Her aggressive movement almost knocked Maddie to the floor.
“Son of a shit bird bastard,” she shouted as Maddie just laughed.
“Good. That’s very lady like,” Eleanor said with a sarcastic sigh. “You’ll fit into the noble ball like a mystic in a whore house.”
Hannah cocked her head at the odd expression. “Did you learn that one from Karl? It’s good. Although, I know a few mystics who would feel right at home in a brothel.”
Maddie squeezed her hand, bringing her attention back to the work. “Your first problem is that you’re not letting me lead. I’m playing the man here, which makes you the woman. You should follow my direction.”
“Always considered myself more of a modern woman,” Hannah said with a grin. “I mean, we’re not in the Age of Madness after all. Maybe I’m making a statement about women’s rights and all that shit.”
Eleanor crossed her arms. “Let’s put that as number two on the to-do list, shall we?”
Hannah scrunched her nose. “What’s number one?”
“Saving the world!”
“Right…” Hannah said. “I keep meaning to get around to that one.”
Gregory sat in the corner, taking in the women as they twirled—or in Hannah’s case, staggered—around the open living room. But his focus wasn’t entirely on the dancing.
Gregory sat at the very edge of the sofa as Sal stretched himself out over the rest. The dragon never blinked, keeping his eyes trained on Gregory the whole time—like he was eyeing up a snack. At least, that’s how Gregory felt.
He tried his hardest not to make eye contact with the dangerous creature, which was difficult since Hannah’s dancing was kind of hard to watch.
The entire plan worried him from the get go—it was desperate and contained more than a few flaws—not least of which was Hannah’s deception. “Watch her eyes, Hannah,” Gregory said. “You need to just feel the movement. Dance is intuitive—kind of like casting magic.”
She scowled at him. “And how the hell would you know?”
Gregory smiled and shrugged. “I’m a terrible magician, but I’m way better at magic than you are at dancing. I always assumed it was my shortcomings that would get us all killed. But I gotta tell you, I’ve never seen someone suck so hard at something.”
She scratched the corner of her eye with her middle finger. Her message was clear.
Eleanor began humming a tune and clapped the beat. Maddie grabbed Hannah and started leading her around the room in a simple Arcadian Waltz. Hannah’s eyes were on her feet. It took all she had to not step on Maddie’s toes again.
“Eyes up,” Maddie whispered.
Hannah lifted her gaze and ended up tripping over herself as Maddie spun her around.
She clenched a fist and shook it, her eyes blazing in frustration. “That’s it! I’m just going to storm the Academy gates. I have a better chance taking on Adrien and his army singlehandedly than I do learning how to waltz.”
“Don’t give up so soon, dear. Perhaps it takes a more experienced touch.”
They all turned to find Ezekiel—appearing as himself with a flowing white beard—standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Hannah couldn’t hold back her smile.
She and Ezekiel spent little time together these days, and she had realized that she missed their old time in the tower. Other than magic lessons a few days a week, he was all but absent in her life.
Hannah cocked her head. “What do you know about dancing, Zeke?” She shook her head. “Don’t tell me you founded that, too.”
He crossed the room with a smile on his face. “Dance is a far older magic than the one I brought to Arcadia, but I know a thing or two,” he said, holding his left hand up for Hannah to take in her right.
She shifted to lead. The old magician held her steady. “It’s a good thing you learn magic quickly. Just wait. Gregory was right; a dance is not all that different from casting. Listen well, and let your body get into rhythm with the music and your partner. Then let yourself go.”
They stared into each other’s eyes long enough for it to become awkward. Hannah wasn’t sure if he was breathing. Finally, his eyes burned red, and Hannah knew that her teacher was in her head.
Let go, he said telepathically. I’ll lead, truly lead, to begin with. And then I will give your body back to you, little by little.
She gave a little nod, and without willing it whatsoever, her body started to move with Ezekiel’s in a dance more perfect than all of Arcadia had ever seen. While she had no control over her movement, she felt the joy of the dance, the beauty in the movement and the harmony between she and Ezekiel.
Hannah felt more happiness than she had for months, maybe years. The sensation of dancing without moving was inexplicable, and her head spun as if intoxicated.
Ezekiel nodded. “Good. Your body is learning it. Convince your mind of that.”
Closing her eyes, she did just that.
It’s time. I’ll give the dance back to you, little by little.
The awareness of the dance came back to her shoulders first. They wanted to hunch and lurch, but Hannah reminded herself that they had learned the moves. She willed them to keep their posture, and they complied.
Ezekiel continued to move her around the room. She caught a glance of Gregory, who sat smiling like an idiot. She felt her teacher’s control release her hips, and waist, and then her legs.
The dance continued for as long as Eleanor could hold the tune, and Hannah wished it would never end.
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Finally, the music stopped, and Ezekiel slung her into a final dip.
“You were fabulous,” Maddie said, holding her hands over her mouth.
For the first time, Hannah felt almost noble.
I can do this, she thought. And then when I do, I’ll do the Arcadian Waltz on Adrien’s grave.
****
There were three of them, and the smallest still dwarfed Parker in size. He could tell immediately that the bandits had evil intentions, and that the wicked looking swords in their hands had more than their fair share of use.
They had emerged from the bushes simultaneously from three different directions. The rearick’s attentive hearing was the only thing that gave Parker and him enough warning to jump to their feet.
Parker pointed his spear in their direction, with one hand choked up high like Karl had taught him and the other gripped near the back. He jerked the tip of his spear back and forth between all three, trying to keep them all in his line of sight.
Karl, however, stood casually, his large hammer resting on his shoulder. He yawned wide like the whole thing was no big deal.
“Let’s keep this simple, boys,” the smallest of the group said. He held a long, serrated dagger in one hand and a small buckler in the other. He was clearly the leader of their group. “Drop your weapons and anything of value. If we think you’ve given us enough, we won’t chase you when you run… probably.” His cruel smile matched his knife’s blade.
“Aye,” Karl said. “I reckon it will be hard for you to chase anything once I’ve ground your knees to powder. You’ve obviously stumbled upon the wrong kind of folks if you were looking for easy prey. Normally, I’d teach you all a lesson, but my Pit fighting champion and I are in a hurry. So, let me make a one-time counteroffer: I’ll give you five seconds to get the hell out of my sight before I shove my hammer down your throat and out your ass and leave what’s left of your bodies for the ravens and remnant to tear apart.”
The rearick turned to his right and spit out into the grass before turning back and added, “That last part is non-negotiable.”
The tiny man seemed a little taken aback by Karl’s response, but the large woman with a broadsword to his right only laughed. “Come on, Rick, let’s cut this foolish rearick in half.”
Without waiting to confirm, she charged ahead at Karl, and the leader, Rick, followed. That left Parker to deal with the largest of them on his own.
The bald man smiled, his flat nose and wide eyes giving him the appearance of a bull. He wore no armor but carried a sword almost as large as Parker’s spear.
Parker could hear the sound of metal on metal behind him as well as someone screaming in pain, but he ignored it, focusing solely on the large man.
“Pit fighting champion, eh?” the brute said without a smile. “The hell you are. You’re just some dumbass little prick who’s about to die screaming for his mom.”
Parker swallowed his fear and smiled as wide as he could. “Well, you’re the expert on little pricks. At least according to what your mom told me—after she stopped her screaming, if you know what I mean.”
The man’s violent response confirmed that he did know what Parker meant.
He lunged forward, giant sword swinging in a broad arc aimed to take Parker’s head off. Parker ducked just in time and dove out of the way. But the big man was quick. He wasted no time coming after Parker, hacking downward before Parker could climb to his feet.
Parker grit his teeth, but managed to get the spear broadways in front of him. His arms shook as the spear took the force of the attack. The man raised his sword again, and Parker wondered how much his spear, or his arms, could take before splintering.
He decided not to stick around long enough to find out.
Rolling just in time, Parker felt the sword swing past him and burrow in the dirt. Parker kicked out at the man’s knee, but his foot bounced harmlessly off his thick thigh. The man smiled for the first time ever. “I’m going to eat your damned liver, boy.”
Parker scrambled backward away from his attacker as the sword came down again and again. He needed to get off the ground and gain some space between him and the ogre of a man. Parker swung the spear in a flailing motion. It was weak and poorly aimed, and there was no way it would hit its target. But it forced the man to take a step back, which gave Parker a chance to get back in the game.
He planted his feet and held the spear out like Karl had shown him.
The man ignored the threat and charged again.
Parker thrusted—this time with confidence, stepping forward as he did. The spear point was enough of a threat that the man decided to aim his attack there instead—hoping to swat it aside so he could get in close for the kill.
It was the kind of thing Karl told him would happen.
As the sword was about to make contact, Parker spun, pulling his spear in and then slashing it out again as he came around. The man’s full-bodied swing left him unguarded and Parker finished his spin by making contact with the man’s broad back. A wide red line appeared, and the man yelled in pain.
Karl had shown him that move as well.
The man stumbled a couple feet before turning, his whole face red with rage.
“You little shit-eating, son of a—”
But before he could finish his tirade, Parker lunged forward with another standard thrust. This time, the man was weary of the spearhead that was covered in his blood. He shut his mouth and stumbled backward.
That was the very first move Karl had taught him.
Parker crouched a little lower and spun the weapon, holding it above his head like he was about to spear a fish. Parker began to circle his opponent; a look of doubt crossed the man’s eyes.
Parker knew it was time to finish it. He sprinted forward. Years of running from bullies in the Boulevard had trained him to be fast. He yelled, a move Karl taught him would add strength to his arm. The man took another step back, ready for the lunging spear. It was what he expected, the exact move Karl had taught him to use.
But Parker had some moves of his own.
At the last second, he brought the spear down and stuck it in the dirt. The spear launched him forward into the air. Feet first, Parker crashed into the man’s chest as the brute’s bloodshot eyes turned from confusion to rage to fear.
The force of Parker’s attack pushed the man backward, and he tripped over his own feet. He was a large, brute of a man, and he had a long way to fall. Had there been open ground behind him, he would have landed hard. As it was, the ground wasn’t open behind him. It happened to hold the raging fire that Karl had built up that morning.
Flames engulfed the man. Screams filled Parker’s ears, the smell of burning flesh reaching his nose shortly after. The large men flailed on the ground before jumping to his feet. He was on fire, like some sort of ancient demon. And he charged at Parker, the flames burning brighter as he ran.
The flaming giant was a sight that would have caused full grown men to shit in their pants, but Parker held his ground. He placed a foot back and spun the spear around to the front. The man skewered himself on it like a roasted pig, and Parker dropped him and the spear into the dirt.
He stared at the dead man, watching the flames slowly burn themselves out. Finally, he remembered that he wasn’t alone. He turned to see what happened to his companion and the other bandits.
Karl was standing, in almost the exact same casual position he had been in when the whole thing started. The only difference was the bloody hammer, the bloody heap of bodies behind him, and the look of pride on his face.
“Well done, lad,” the rearick said. “Although, if you had tried those fancy acrobatics on me, I would have chopped your legs out from under ya.”
Parker grinned, though he felt a little sick. “It’s like I always told ya, Karl. I’m pretty hot stuff.” The rearick laughed at Parker’s stupid pun. “What happened to those guys?” Parker asked pointing to the mangled corpses.
Karl shrugged. “Us reari
ck are an honest folk.”
Parker looked confusedly at his friend. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Karl looked back at the remains of the little man. “It means I tried really, really hard to fit my hammer down his throat.”
