by Jack Bessie
“I had managed to beat Master Roein, and thought I was amazing with a sword. She spoke to father, and one evening, he drew his sword on me, and challenged me to show my skill...” she sighed at this, falling silent.
“I guess that was wicked?”
“He worked me hard for an hour, until I was dripping sweat. Toward the end, it dawned on me that he wasn’t even working hard...he was just wearing me out! I decided to make a stand, before I was dead tired, and threw every bit of effort I had into beating him. I finally got to the point where I couldn’t raise my arm...my sword felt like an anvil! I just stood there, and cried. That’s when he used the point of his sword to mark me! I’ve never forgotten his words,” she sighed, looking guilty.
“What did he say?”
“He said, Daughter, no matter how skilled you become, no matter who might be beaten by you, there will always be another with equal or greater skill. Fight always, assuming the current opponent is that one! Unless you die of old age, in your sleep, someday you will likely face that one. There is no dishonor in being bested by your better, but much dishonor in being beaten by one less skilled, because you fail to treat them as what they might be!”
“So one must fight always like they’re fighting a master?” Rasten suggested.
“If you don’t, you will be fighting your master!” she replied, and hugged him.
29
After the attack on Alarinad, Shocara had much enthusiasm for more efforts. The men were especially eager to do some raiding, to see what they might acquire, especially from the Elvin.
Shocara was less enthused about attacking the Elvin simply to gain goods and valuables, considering it more likely to simply irritate their enemy, and bring a more wicked counter attack upon them as a punishment. Still, in the end, she had to do something, or risk angering her warriors.
She considered where they might have less chance of opposition, and a better chance of a good haul, hoping that one or two such attacks would satisfy the Eridians at least until Spring, when they might return to a more productive series of larger attacks.
In the end, she decided on an Elvin village, which lay far to the west and close to the border with the Eridians. It was a place where several roads came together, where much traffic moved, especially when the weather was favorable, one coming from distant Alarinad, and others going on to even farther flung villages.
The Eridians had no idea that the Elvin called it Hirienti, but began plotting an attack, once Shocara declared it as worthy. Two scouts were sent by terranak to observe and spy, to see what sort of activity might be observed. They were gone four days, before returning, excited and eager to speak with Shocara.
“There is much movement by way the roads, even this time of year! We witnessed many past through, richly dressed, and with many burdens. Many goods pass to and fro, likely of some value. I think if we arrive with them unprepared, we can take much from them!” one of the scouts reported.
“Are there warriors about?” Shocara wondered, thinking this more important to know.
“Perhaps a dozen...they seem to be quartered in a large building at the southern side of the place, closest to Alarinad. Some of our flyers can land easily, and surround them, while the main force moves through the place, taking what they wish!”
“Very well...I want no Elvin harmed, who is unarmed, and who doesn’t resist! Fight the warriors, not women and children! If you hope someday to raid them again, you would be wise not to make them wish to abandon the place!” Shocara declared. Her men frowned, but finally saw the wisdom of her words.
Shocara liked their chances for this raid, the village being separated from the Eridian lands by a deep river, which made an attack involving allowon unlikely. This had apparently let the Elvin consider it safer than it was, and more defensible, assuming any attack might be mounted solely by air. Since she could gather nearly a hundred flyers and could conceal them within only an hour’s flight of the Elvin place, she felt confident that they could easily catch the Elvin unprepared, dropping upon them in an overwhelming display of force, there being so few defenders present.
What she could only guess at was the number of residents who might be former warriors or otherwise skilled and capable. Once one of the Elvin had been a warrior, they were ever ready to fight, and even without the constant practice of the warrior, they remained skilled and dangerous. In spite of this, she felt safe in her assumptions, having found most villages holding fewer of these sorts than needed to mount a credible defense.
She had sent word to her neighboring villages, to announce her intent, and with it the date when the warriors needed to arrive, well prepared and eager to go forth. All would take large and heavy sacks, for hauling loot, likely returning looking like some sort of band of traders, most over loaded. This was the most dangerous time, as an attack against them in the air, while so laden would leave them disadvantaged, or necessitate them cutting loose their spoils.
Shocara spent much time considering how they might conduct their attack, and when the flyers from their neighboring villages arrived, she spent much of the afternoon going over her plans with the other warriors.
After eating the evening meal, she had met again with all the tribal leaders, and those who would be in charge of accomplishing different tasks. She had repeated her insistence that no unarmed Elvin be harmed, a caution met with much less than enthusiasm. Still, none were willing to openly argue or defy her. She had walked with Garen for a time, the air chilly and from the southwest, threatening a storm.
“You are less eager than you’d wish to be?” Garen asked, seeing her worry plainly.
“I have a feeling...that this is foolish and wrong, but can name no reason for my concern. We have always raided...why now should it matter more than before?” she sighed.
“Perhaps because you understand that killing Sayarin did not make life better for our people? You fear what the Elvin Princess, being his daughter might do?” Garen wondered. Shocara nearly stumbled, to hear this so precisely named.
“Dear Garen...what wizardry lets you know my worry so well? I had not been able to name it, but you have and well. I fear what she might do. Things change...I have begun to have different thoughts; it is only reasonable to think she might also! Where might that lead? Will I be able to rise up, and contend with her, or have we poked a wicked beast, which will rise up and rend us?” she whispered, touched by a cold chill.
“I have no understanding of such, and can only worry; you have no need of such!” Garen chuckled.
“No,” she sighed, “I’m quite well able to do that on my own!” she agreed and laughed.
She awoke the next morning to find a light rain falling, cold and miserable. As the light increased, they confronted a dreary mist and gloom. Everyone was grumbling, but Shocara was in much better spirits.
“The weather is our ally, and will hide us from our enemies! Or would you rather the Elvin see us well before we land, and be set to greet us with steel and arrows?” she wondered.
“I would meet them boldly, not like a thief in the night!” Hacarim declared.
“Your mate and children would likely wish you to have better sense, and be able to return to them!” Shocara declared simply. “If all had to die to prove their manliness, we’d soon be gone from this land!” she added, shaking her head, again dismayed by what the Eridian males considered a proper display of manliness.
They soon mounted up and headed out, the terranaks eager to shake off the water and fly. The large creatures cared nothing for the weather, well trained and able to fly in any condition, save when ice and sleet might accumulate and burden them.
The first day’s flight was cold but uneventful. Their leathers kept them partly dry, but absorbed enough water to be heavy and uncomfortable. They landed near the frontier, near the final Eridian village, and set up camp. They wished to be on their way, and attack as soon after it got light as possible. It was only an hour flight from this place to the Elvin village. The rain
slacked off as the light faded, making everyone’s mood improve.
Shocara again reviewed her plans, but changed nothing. She had picked the best and strongest to attack the place where the Elvin warriors were thought to be, hoping to vanquish them swiftly, and more easily get the others to capitulate and offer no resistance. She had designated three to stay awing, and keep watch, in case somehow other Elvin might come unexpectedly, and attack them while they were busy plundering, and unaware. She thought this unlikely, but her respect for the Elvin brooked no carelessness.
It was barely midmorning when her band descended from the cloudy mist in force, landing in a flurry of wings. The ones intent on engaging the Elvin warriors had to leap to the ground, drawing swords, as the Elvin emerged almost instantly, intent on fighting them. The Eridians appeared to outnumber the Elvin nearly double, but it was no sure battle, the Elvin being wickedly skilled and quick. Seeing this, Shocara diverted another handful of her warriors and went herself to help overwhelm the Elvin, leaving all wounded, dead or disarmed in short order.
While the Eridians secured the ones now disarmed, she ran back into the heart of the village, and found her men fighting against three dozen non warriors, and being handily held at bay. The skill of these amazed her, proving that they were likely all former warriors.
Her men were stuck facing them on the main street, and Shocara quickly had a dozen slip away, to circle around between the dwellings, to get to the back side of the Elvin, which would force them to fight on at least two fronts.
Seeing her intent, several of her other fighters made their way around and between the buildings, to attack from the sides. This rapidly turned the tide against the Elvin, and several fell quickly.
Shocara pushed her way through her men, to the front, where she was facing the Elvin.
“Hold!” she called loudly to her warriors, and all paused, wondering what she intended. Shocara spoke no Elvin, but wished to have them surrender. She considered this a moment, before pointing at the Elvin, and then tossing her own sword on the ground. She then pointed at the Elvin and gestured for them to do as she had done. The Elvin looked at each other, less than eager to succumb to an Eridian tactic, but seeing the number of their dead on the ground, they finally gave in. One of the Elvin stepped forward, and carefully lay his sword down next to Shocara’s. The others did likewise.
“Harm none of them!” she called. Shocara picked up her sword, and sheathed it, then gestured at the Elvin wounded. The Elvin turned away, to tend their fallen, and Shocara turned to address her warriors.
“Take only things of great value and use! We must fly quickly!” she commanded.
The Eridians were soon busy, going from house to house, searching for gold and silver, for jewelry and other things they admired. The Elvin women and children fled when confronted where ever they could, terrified of the Eridians.
By the time the Eridian sacks were full, Shocara was pacing, and scanning the skies, her inner feeling of dread growing stronger. That no Elvin were visible, coming to aid the ones there, seemed likely change at any moment. She ran around, loudly commanding the men to hurry and get ready to depart.
She thought she might succeed, when a new problem caught her eye; a dozen young Elvin women were being carried out of houses, hands and feet tied, by grinning Eridians.
“What are you doing! Leave them!” she shrieked.
“Ah Princess, what is a raid without taking a few cute girls?!” Hacarim laughed. “It’s only a few...what might the Elvin do? We’ve taken some before, and kept them! You worry too much!” he chuckled, clearly determined to not listen to her.
They might decide to kill all of us! Shocara thought, this coming unbidden to her suddenly. We would wish to do such if the Elvin took our women, why should the Elvin not be so inclined? she wondered, disturbed by this new consideration, as she climbed upon her terranak.
30
Rasten had been hugely skeptical about learning anything regarding what Amein called sorcery. His education on Earth had ill prepared him for a discipline not exactly based on what he called science. That he had witnessed it being used, even on himself, seemed less inclined to make him believe in it than it likely should have. Still, when he was sent off to study it, with the Elvin Master Sorcerer, he tried not to grin too much.
Rasten found the Master’s place astounding, being large and staffed by several dozen elves, young and old. He arrived near lunch time, and was invited to join the group at their table. Master Emareili asked Rasten a dozen questions and listened to the answers, before pointing a finger at him.
“You are skeptical of what we call sorcery!” he declared, which got Rasten handily stared at by everyone within hearing. Knowing it was pointless to be less than honest, he shrugged, searching for a way to explain his feelings.
“Forgive me, but my understanding is poor, and contrary! I watched Amein use spells on our transit here, but perhaps because of my upbringing on my old world, I seem less than eager to believe my own eyes!”
“There is no sorcery on that world?” the Master asked, amazed.
“There is what they call science, which seeks to explain everything in rational terms. Long years ago, people believed in magic and witchcraft...a magical version of sorcery...they even had people who claimed to be sorcerers, but weren’t! Mostly they were people with a bag of tricks, or slight understanding, who fooled the uneducated into thinking they had powers they didn’t! As the more rational understanding of things supplanted all of these, they fell into disfavor...so much that all who claimed to be magicians, or sorcerers were dismissed!”
“Your world has embraced a machine way of things, hasn’t it?” Emareili wondered, rubbing his nose.
“Mostly...they have developed many advanced ways to manipulate the world.”
“Have they learned how to destroy an entire universe?” the Master wondered, pointing at a roll in a basket. A small gesture caused it to rise up and float towards the Master, as Rasten sat, spell bound.
“No...although they have learned to destroy whole cities with some of their weapons...”
“Then it would seem our sorcery is more powerful than your old world’s science?” the old elf suggested, grinning as he plucked the roll out of the air.
“How...how do you do that?” Rasten whispered, amazed.
“That’s what you’re here to learn!” he chuckled, nibbling on his roll. “But to succeed, you need to believe you can! It takes much concentration to master many of the spells we use, and being inattentive can be dangerous, to others and yourself! You would need a lifetime of study to master all that we know, but we will attempt to teach you the basics, at least so you can defend yourself against others who would harm you.”
“I hear Shocara has some skill?”
“Phhha! She is a beginner, but can do many wicked things against the untrained! You are likely to contend with her at some point, and thus need to be able to counter her ability. Were she to encounter a truly skilled sorcerer, she would likely find her ability greatly diminished!”
“By having her confidence eroded?”
“Precisely! Half of mastering sorcerer is such. Of course, half of mastering any skill is such faith in your ability to learn and accomplish it. Is that not true of the sword and your other skills?”
“Of course...I think the hardest lesson is to accept that you can master a discipline. I’m likely to need some work on that here...” he declared, and sighed.
“You aren’t going to be happy for a while then!” the Master laughed.
The reason for this came to him soon after, when he was handed over to a young teen elf girl, who was declared to be a tenth level sorcerer. Rasten was amused by her serious and dour appearance; she clearly wasn’t happy to have him as her problem or student. He hoped this might mean she would be less inclined to act flirty, and so it seemed, as she began lecturing him on certain fundamentals. His responses proved less than pleasing to her, and she was soon frustrated.
; “You act like you don’t even understand the least bit of sorcery!” she moaned.
“I’m not even sure I believe it to be real, or at least that I can do it!” he replied, smiling impishly. This garnered him a stern, hands on hips stare, which reminded him of Amein’s pouty exasperation at times. Her pouty look soon changed to one more wicked, and she closed her eyes, and began moving her hands while whispering something almost incomprehensible in high Elvin. When she flipped her hands over in his direction, he felt a strong jolt, much like being kicked in the ass might seem, followed by a wicked burning pain, that slowly moved up his spine. He leaped up, wanting to scream, but was too paralyzed to do so. He noted the now smug looking elf make another gesture, and the sensation stopped instantly. He collapsed onto the floor, groaning, only the memory of his suffering still with him. He looked up, to see his instructor staring down at him, arms crossed and looking amazingly pleased.
“Might you require more of such, to be convinced that I’m serious?” she asked, sounding like she would be extremely pleased to demonstrate more, should he be slow. Rasten managed to shake his head, and climbed slowly to his feet. He took his seat, and devoted all of his attention to her instructions, having no desire to repeat his ordeal. When she was finished, Caiteri sent him off, with things to practice.
Rasten had been mildly hopeful that Amein would be sympathetic to his plight, telling what he had experienced at the sorcery school.
“Master Emareili did that?” she asked, brows furrowed.
“No, I have one of his students...some young elf girl...” he sighed.
“Name?” Amein asked, curious.
“Caiteri...I thinks that’s what she said....why are you laughing?” he demanded. Amein was nearly doubled over from her mirth.
