She removed her blade from within her cloak and matched Korhan’s stance. Then she began executing a series of moves and instructing Korhan as she made the moves, “First slip your right foot back like this and transfer about two thirds of your weight onto your right foot. At the same time transfer the sword into your right hand and raise the handle so it is level with your eyes, extend your left arm straight and point your fingers, point the tip of your blade at your fingers... Good.... Now step forwards with the right leg, and make a swing towards your own neck height with the blade at about forty five degrees, ending the move by clasping the handle in both hands. Now step your right foot behind your left in a double step so you end up with your left leg back, two thirds of your weight on the left , and execute a low parry like this parrying from right to left. Good... Now step your right leg back and swing the sword one handed in a spinning neck chop, blade horizontal. Now step the right leg back, middle parry left to right, then three steps forwards like this, slicing at the neck on the first step, slashing to the torso on the second then on the third a rising block with the sword, a short swirl clockwise and a thrust to the heart like so... Now we return to the ready position... And repeat mirror image, this time starting by slipping the left foot back.”
She moved fluidly, and Korhan struggled to keep up with her. Remembering the order of moves and where to step was difficult, but she repeated the form several times with Korhan performing it alongside her. It was strange... As an exercise, initially he questioned its worth, but after going through the form several times he found himself aching in places he didn’t normally ache. It was using muscles and moves he might not normally use, strengthening his body and making him more familiar with his blade. Once he had the moves down Vashni lowered her blade and slid it into its hidden scabbard in her cloak, then she stood and watched him continue with a critical eye, stopping him from time to time to make corrections.
“Hmmph! Stop! Blade tip lower, deeper stance! More weight on the back foot! Bend your front knee... Good - continue...”
He moved backwards and forwards repeating the pattern of moves and growing tireder but more fluid and confident with each repetition. With each performance of the form Vashni would stop him at different points to correct his stance or the way he was holding the blade. Occasionally grabbing his arms, his hands, his hips or his shoulders and manipulating them manually into where she thought they ought to be.
The others were watching from the fire pit, chewing their provisions and swigging mead. Votrex leaned towards Harald, “Do you think he’s getting any better?”
“I know not Votrex... He seems to move with more confidence, but what can repeating this simple pattern of moves teach him? Surely one cannot learn to fight without a partner to compete against?”
Brael overheard, “There are many aspects to fighting, this kind of exercise is common in Durth Orza also... It hones your mind and body... Sparring is important also of course - but in the heat of sparring one cannot consider carefully the quality of one’s technique.”
Saul nodded, “I still don’t know how much to trust her... Elves are known for being mischievous and troublemakers... I think Brael is right though - whatever her motives she is trying to make Korhan a better warrior... I believe she is succeeding too.”
Eventually, after practicing the form many, many times and being scolded many, many times by Vashni, Korhan lowered Harbinger, “Mir§a Vashni, I cannot continue... My arms and legs are burning!”
She smirked at him, “Good Ri§ine, it means our exercise is having an effect. I want ten more repetitions; make them good ones - then you may eat and sleep. I will prepare some food for you while you practice.”
With that she wandered back to her horse and delved into her saddlebags. Korhan did as instructed, trying to move fluidly and form good positions and stances with each move. It was hard work, there was so much to concentrate on getting right... Eventually she approached with a white cloth containing some bread, cheese and fruit.
“Here Ri§ine... You are clumsy... And slow to learn, but I can see that you are doing your best... Eat, rest, then try harder tomorrow. When you lie down to sleep tonight, visualize yourself performing this form, go through the moves in your mind, keep checking your stances and your hand positions, tomorrow we will do better hmmm?”
With that she turned her back on him and walked back to the fire to lie on her sleep mat where Korhan had laid it out for her. He stood watching the rain fall beyond the shelter of the rocky outcrop, going over the moves in his mind. He felt stronger, his muscles ached, but he could feel himself changing. He finished the food and retired to his sleep mat. Votrex had long finished his meal and drank a good half flask of mead before he turned to the others, “I am well rested, I shall take first watch tonight.”
Harald lay on his mat, “Wake me when you tire - I shall take second watch.”
As it was Votrex did not tire until daybreak, and as the sun rose on the horizon he roused Harald then took to his mat for a couple of hours. When Korhan finally woke his stomach was rumbling, and his whole body ached. As it happened Vashni awoke him by shoving him harshly with her foot, “Come Ri§ine, it is time to get up!”
He groaned and rose groggily, his aching muscles screaming at him for the whole manoeuvre. When he was standing she reached up and placed her fingertips on his temples, “Prepare yourself Ri§ine, I shall invade your mind - try to repel me...”
Without warning he felt her presence in his head, like an intruder stamping around, he tried to focus, to shut her out, this time as he provided more resistance she gently applied more pressure, roaming where she wanted to in his memories and conscious mind, but occasionally slowing to prise open the mental doors he was closing to check her progress. He could feel himself resisting, but he still felt helpless, and at her mercy. Eventually she withdrew, “Hmmmm, good Ri§ine... You are starting to put up some resistance... Rather pathetic resistance, but some... Maybe there is hope for you? I see you have been going over the sword form in your head - that is good... Now, I shall test your willpower.”
She leaned closer and whispered to him, “§ara Shoriuda di§airm §uisquira shom..”
Without warning, he began kneeling. His muscles screamed for mercy at the sudden motion as he knelt down and kissed her boot, to the chuckles of the others.
When he rose Vashni was frowning at him, “Hmmm, you must try harder Ri§ine... Now pack up our things and prepare my horse.”
While Korhan busied himself attending to the horses Brael approached, “Lady Vashni, would you have another look at my curse? I would like to remove it before our encounter with the dragon, the restoration of my magical abilities would improve our chances... I fear time is running out... If you cannot unspeak it, do you think you could remove it with a whisper?”
“Hmmm, let me see again...”
He turned his back and allowed her to gently part his matted black hair to study the cursive writing, swirling and writhing in the tattoo on his neck, “Hmmm, it is still impossible for me to decipher gravian... Would you like to make a guess?”
Brael sighed, “Yes... First - try to describe what you see...”
Vashni went quiet for a moment as she studied the writhing symbol as it morphed and changed, “Hmmm, I see something like a sun, in black, it has black swirly snakes or flames or something flickering out from the middle, the snakes have words written on them, but the writing is very small... Then it reforms into a spiral, and I see some tiny words in the spiral, which look quite elvish, something like’ Vraic §iue zu§h awena’ … Then it swirls clockwise, anti-clockwise and settles down into a zig zag pattern made of words... Hmmm, then it changes back into the sun... But it keeps changing…. - it’s hard to see anything to be honest.”
Brael listened, then thought carefully, going through the possibilities in his head. Eventually he took a deep breath and sighed deeply, “Try ‘ Aili§ura §our§a, Ur§hoth, varoth §a anwea h§uz euiz carivsh cara ilketh e§o. “ Vashni repe
ated this and watched the tattoo, there was no flash of lightning and the symbol did not change. She tried again, more slowly, then tried switching the order of the words around and changing her pronunciation.
Eventually she sighed, “I’m sorry Brael, I see no change... Unless you can think of another phrase to try - I think you shall remain cursed for now... Let me know if you think of something else... Though I am doubtful we can enjoy success this way.”
“Hmmm, sigh... Can you try to whisper it off?”
Vashni leaned closer, so he could feel her breath on his neck, she began whispering, subtly, slowly, eventually Brael started panting and making muffled grunts...
“Stop! Stop! It burns so... I do not think you can remove it with a whisper, it appears to be protected from being removed forcibly.”
“Sigh, sorry Brael, I did my best... Come, get your mount ready - we should ride.”
Votrex had packed his steed up and removed an ornate dwarvish breastplate from his bulging saddlebags. He pulled it over his head and fastened the clips holding it onto his torso. Silus sneered at him, “Hmmph, I don’t know why you bother... It will only encumber you and will offer no protection.”
“Hah! Speak for yourself dragon slayer, this armour does not encumber me, and though it might not offer much protection from a dragon’s breath, a claw or tooth - it might.”
Saul had loaded his horse up and was wandering about the area plucking plants from the earth, studying them and throwing some aside, but tucking some into a small satchel. Harald eyed him suspiciously, “What are you doing wizard?”
“Ahhh... Harald, there are some interesting plants around here, I think I can take some of these and use them to brew some potions that might aid our battle with the dragon... break up the fire pit, I shall be ready to leave in a few moments.”
Harald broke up the fire and attended to his own horse. Once all the horses were watered, and riders mounted they trotted slowly back to the road. Before Korhan could drop back to his place behind Vashni, she leaned towards him, “Ri§ine, this morning I want you to continue practicing the first sword form in your head... Remember what I told you about technique; stop and mentally check that you are visualising the correct positions - I will test you later.”
“Yes, Mir§a Vashni.”
The wind had died down now and the rain had stopped. The scrubland was soggy underfoot from the previous night’s downpour and the sky loomed grey and overcast. When they made it back to the road, the road was a muddy, sludgy mess. The horses trudged on, the warriors occasionally reaching into their saddlebags for sustenance. By midday, the ramshackle, randomly placed buildings of Duramer could be seen in the distance and the clouds were breaking to allow a few rays of sunlight down onto the plain. By the time they could see the buildings clearly, Korhan had repeated the sword form many, many times and felt mentally exhausted.
On the outskirts of the seemingly large village a blacksmith was hammering at his forge. They couldn’t see the blacksmith, but they could see his smoky hut and hear the clanging of the hammer. A youngish boy, maybe of thirteen or fourteen years was darting in and out fetching things. When the riders approached the boy looked at them worried, but Saul held his palm upwards, “Do not worry young one, we come in peace.”
The boy did not look a hundred percent satisfied at this but he relaxed slightly, “Hmmph, who are you then? And what are you doing up ‘ere? We don’t get many empire folk up ‘ere...”
“We have heard reports of a dragon, terrorising the village of Brunwelt, to the east. Our mission is to investigate these reports and if it’s true that a dragon is responsible - to slay it.”
“Hmmph, you’d better not ride into town then... It’s true; there is a dragon over at Brunwelt... Everyone’s gone a bit crazy over it... It’s... It’s all a bit weird... You’d better speak to father, he’s working the forge now and he’ll have to finish the pieces he’s working on, but if you ride into town well... Not everyone is unhappy about the dragon; he’s a proper dragon you know... They say he can talk, they say he calls himself ‘Thrax’... Tie your horses up, I’ll speak to father.”
With that the young boy scampered into the smoke filled hut. Saul looked around at his companions, Votrex shrugged, and dismounted, slowly the others followed and one by one they tied their horses up at the hitching post.
As he dismounted from his horse Harald shook his head at Saul, “People aren’t unhappy about the dragon? How can this be? A great, fire breathing, man eating beast turns up and people think... Hmmph! He’s implying we are likely to receive a hostile reception in this village - for wanting to vanquish the dragon? I don’t understand, I thought people would be pleased!”
Silus who had been dismounting behind him overheard, “Hah! You still seem to think we are dealing with an ordinary, yet particularly dangerous beast. Did you not listen to anything I told you in the ale house in Trest? Dragons are clever, manipulative... I hate to tell you this, given how much I dislike and distrust the elf... But her training in mental defence would benefit us all... Of course that is assuming we can even get to the dragon before the villagers of Brunwelt stop us.”
Saul turned to him, “Was this the case all those years ago? Did you encounter the same sort of problems with locals?”
“No, the Empress knew about the emergence very quickly so that specimen... Hmmmph, Firus... I might as well tell you its name... Firus did not have time to establish followers and so forth before it was hunted... We do not even know how long it is since this ‘Thrax’ has risen... Maybe the blacksmith can tell us more? Sigh... Either way, I have conversed with a dragon, and it does not surprise me at all that this beast has managed to manipulate the people into-”
“Worshipping him like a god.”
They turned, to see the blacksmith, covered in sweat emerging from his forge. He was a tall man, barrel chested, with arms bulging with muscle. His wife, red faced and tired looking followed him out. Saul held his palm up, “We come in peace, I am Saul Karza, emissary of the Empress - we are here to slay your dragon.”
“Hah! You’d do well to keep your mission to yourself then Saul Karza, people around here won’t be too pleased to hear it... Tam Briarly, Duramers blacksmith.”
Harald looked him in the eye, “Worship him like a god? What madness is this?”
“That beast is a savvy one... He doesn’t kill indiscriminately; he’s beguiled the village council, promised them something or other... Ishar knows what, but they’ve more or less formed a cult with Ramon Hern, the head of the village council as high priest and ‘Thrax’ as their god. They’ve started...”
His wife cast him a concerned look and he looked down to the floor dismayed, “... They’ve started sacrificing... People to... Once a week they take one girl... I’m sorry...”
The warriors exchanged looks, a mixture of disbelief and disgust, that people could die this way.
Korhan stepped forwards, forgetting his commitment to maintaining a position behind his Mir§a, “When is the next sacrifice due to take place? We have to stop it!”
“I guess... They’ll be taking her up to his lair... Hmmm, maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after?”
“Have you seen it? How big is the beast?”
“I do not know, no one has seen him bar Ramon and... Maybe a couple of others... They lead cattle, or other livestock up every couple of days, the beast seems to remain in his cave for most of the time... And why shouldn’t he when his has his loyal followers to run around tending to his needs?”
The boy at this point pulled on his father’s heavy apron and whispered in his ear, the blacksmith sighed deeply, then whispered to his wife. She gave a look of shock and disgust, “Tam! You CAN’T let him go! Tell me you’re not going to support this folly!”
The boy glared at her, the blacksmith sighed and looked her in the eye, “Mildred, he’s fourteen; I don’t know if it’s right that I stop him... Tis a noble endeavour and... Well, should they fail, at least he can report back to us - he sh
ould be in no danger himself.”
Saul stepped closer, “What is he proposing?”
“My son, Callen here... Wants to take you to Thrax’s lair... He’s followed Ramon up there a couple of times; he can show you a way up there that avoids Duramer and Brunwelt.”
Mildred scowled at the warriors then turned her back on them and stormed into the house.
The blacksmith watched her go, then turned back, “She’ll come around, if the rest of the villagers find out he’s helped you - they’ll be after us... Hmmm, feed and water your horses, I am a farrier as well... So I shall shoe your horses for you, if I’m asked, I’ll tell them that you were travellers come to have your horses shod. You should travel by night, the skies are clear and moonlit, and you are less likely to be seen and challenged by the so called, ‘Servants of the Flame’... Callen will lead you to Thrax’s lair and look after your horses until you return... Or until such time as it is clear you are all dead... I’m sorry to be so grim, but what little I know of the beast, leads me to think your chances of success are low if existent at all.”
Saul cast a sly glance about his companions, “Hmmm, well you would think that... But we have a few surprises up our sleeves for ‘Thrax’... If any have a chance of ending this madness, it is us...”
This caused Tam to raise an eyebrow, “Callen, take them in, give them mead and food...”
The warriors filed into the small timber frame house next to the smithy. There was a small fire burning in the fireplace, and as they took seats at the table Callen fetched mead and mugs, while Mildred prepared some simple food, bread and cheese. They could hear the sound of Tam outside dealing with their horses. Mildred had a cauldron of stew or something similar cooking over the fire. The slightly smoky atmosphere, the smell of good home-cooking... It was all a welcome respite from their grim task - at least to the humans in the group. In truth even Votrex felt somewhat at ease, the fire, the smell and the dark of the cottage reminding him of his father’s chambers in Durgheim Holt. They sat and ate in silence, Mildred, eventually serving out a small portion of stew to each member of the party in a wooden bowl, except to Korhan and Vashni who both refused - though in truth there was little meat to speak of in the stew.
Deathsworn Arc: 01 - The Last Dragon Slayer Page 15
