by Ben Hale
He paused again, searching for the right words, “Every . . . single . . . individual, is necessary in the battle to do what’s right. You are truly the best fighter I have ever seen, so you will be called upon to defend the innocent—but don’t ever forget that just because a person doesn’t fight, doesn’t mean they aren’t important to the victory.”
When he finished, he smiled and turned away, overcome with a fit of coughing. Something about the way he’d said it made it seem as if it were extremely personal, and for the first time, Taryn realized he knew little about Murai’s past. A pang of sorrow echoed through him as he realized there would be no more opportunities to find out.
Taryn’s throat tightened. “Thank you, for everything. You were a great teacher.”
Clapping Taryn roughly on the shoulders, Murai turned around and grabbed something off the table. Turning back he reached out with a small spoon that had been threaded through a hole in the handle.
“Something told me you would be leaving soon, so I wanted to give you a present to remember your training. This is so you don’t forget to be prepared for anything,” he said, the corners of his mouth struggling to stay in place.
Recalling the morning’s intrusion brought a smile to Taryn’s face, but his uncle wasn’t finished.
“Actually, I have something else for you,” Murai said, still grinning as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a package. “This might be a little more useful.”
“I don’t know; I’m sure the spoon will come in handy,” Taryn replied.
Tossing the package to him, his uncle said, “Maybe, but I thought you might like these in a pinch.” Taryn looked at the package in his hands. It was about the length of his forearm, wrapped in cloth, and a little heavy. Removing the cloth revealed a finely crafted belt with five throwing knives in separate sheathes. Sliding one of the little knives free, he found it not only in good condition but also of excellent craftsmanship, with an intricate sea dragon engraved on the blade. Placing it back in its sheath, he pulled out another, which proved to be identical. He glanced at his uncle with a raised eyebrow. No master on the island taught knife throwing.
“I got them off a pirate that thought his one ship could attack the island,” he responded to the unasked question with a smug grin and a twinkle in his eye that suggested it was utter foolishness on the pirate’s part—which Taryn had to admit, it probably was.
“This is a great gift, but I’ve never used throwing knives before,” Taryn said.
“I know . . . neither have I,” Murai admitted as he spread his arms out wide, “but I thought you might like to practice on the ship. It’s a long voyage, after all. I know that if you could, you would learn every style of fighting there is, and I thought you might like to pick up knife throwing along the way.”
“Thank you,” was all Taryn managed to say. How do you say goodbye, probably forever, to the person who has raised you?
Seeming to sense Taryn’s feelings, his uncle chuckled. “You don’t have to say goodbye to this old elf yet; I will be there to see you off in the morning.” He paused and smiled. “I am happy for you, about your swords I mean.”
Taryn smiled with mixed emotions and nodded in reply.
Murai embraced his adoptive nephew one last time and slipped out the door, leaving Taryn alone in the flickering candlelight.
Feeling numb and drained from the day’s events, he blew out the light and lay down, still fully clothed. Despite the hour, the young fighter didn’t feel tired, and sleep took a long time to come. In a single day he’d found out things about his parents he’d never known, discovered his weapons were magical, and made the decision to leave the island—the only home he had ever known. Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of life changes, he spent the next few hours struggling to let peace overtake him so he could rest.
Sometime early the next morning, Taryn sighed and gave up. Slipping from his bed, he began gathering his things. Aside from the mugs and bottles of ale that his friends and uncle had left, the room contained only a few pieces of parchment, some clothes, a hard leather vest, bracers, a pack, and his weapons on the wall. Everything fit easily into the pack. Then he lifted his swords down from the wall and strapped them onto his back.
Hesitating, he pulled his father’s sword out and called forth the blue fire—which came before he’d finished his thought. Drawing his other sword he changed it to the magnificent bow and allowed himself a few moments to admire the weapons. Then, shaking his head at the irrational thought that it had never happened, he changed Ianna back to the sword and sheathed both weapons. Last of all, he wrapped the belt of throwing knives his uncle had given him around his waist and rotated his torso to see how they felt. He would practice with them later—when he had time.
Before he knew it, he was standing and looking at the room that had been his home since birth. A light breeze gently brushed the drapes, allowing a scattering of soft moonlight through. Despite everything that had happened, it was still hard to leave. His heart aching, he turned and slipped out the door for the last time.
Chapter 4: Throwing Lessons
Cresting the horizon in a sudden blast of light, the morning dawn found Taryn standing in the crow’s nest of the Sea Dancer. The lack of mountains had been unsettling at first, so over the last two weeks he’d taken to spending his time in the only elevated place on the ship. It afforded him a peaceful place to think, as well as to enjoy the motion of the ship.
Beneath him, the mainsail stretched in a great white arc as it strained to contain the powerful wind that drove the vessel forward. The Sea Dancer had one other smaller mast towards the front of the boat, but its canvas was furled at the moment due to the strong wind. Below and behind him the aft cabin sat with the helm situated above it. A door into the aft cabin led down to the hold and crews’ quarters. At the front of the ship, the forecastle housed the captain’s quarters, with ready access to the deck. In addition, a large ballista stood mounted at the stern, its wood hardened from long exposure to the salty air.
Even with only one sail, the prow of the large ship crashed through the water with tremendous force, tilting the vessel in either direction without warning. Standing on the deck the affect was slight, but the swaying crow’s nest could move up to ten feet to either side in an instant. When he’d first begun volunteering for the high watch, the other sailors had told frequent stories of men who had been catapulted out of the nest when an unexpected wave cracked the tip of the mainmast like a whip—sending the unfortunate men far from the boat.
Taryn enjoyed the tales, and laughed just as much as Liri and Trin. It didn’t occur to him until later that the stories were meant for him. By then, the sailors had taken his lack of response as self-assurance, and left him in the unnerving position of being welcomed into the sailors’ confidence. They had even begun inviting him to join their games below deck and letting him take the high watch whenever he wanted. One of crew, named Hunrin, or Hun, as the other sailors called him, a squat nugget of a man with a bushy beard and a wide smile to match a wide face, had even offered to show Taryn how to throw knives after seeing the set from his uncle the night before.
A shout from the deck pulled him away from the view. Looking down he saw Hunrin standing at the door to the aft cabin.
“Do ya want to learn how to throw a knife or what?” Hunrin called up.
Without answering, Taryn leapt out of the crow’s nest and caught a rope on the way down. With thick leather gloves protecting him from the burn, he slid down the rope almost as fast as he would have fallen. Tightening his grip as he neared the deck, he landed lightly in front of Hun.
Hun grunted. “Not bad. I can see you’ve picked up a few things since we set sail, but don't expect it to be so easy to fling a blade.” Hun walked across the deck and hung a crude target at about head height on the forecastle. “Not many people are very good, you know, mostly because no one has the coordination or the time to practice. It took me months to become skilled enough to actual
ly use a knife throw in a fight.” He grinned broadly. “It sure comes in handy now and then.”
While he was talking, several more sailors appeared and began going about their morning routine, checking ropes or eating breakfast. Erix, the captain, settled onto the stairs next to the newly hung target and began eating a mess of potatoes. Taryn didn’t miss his nonchalance with the knife target only a few feet away.
Hunrin walked back to Taryn, who still stood next to the aft cabin. “I’m just about the best knife thrower I’ve ever met,” he proclaimed, with a smug smile and an over exaggerated wink. At the same time he idly flicked a knife towards the board on the other side of the deck. The small blade went several feet to the left and embedded next to the captain.
With a chagrined “Woah, sorry cap’n,” Hun bounded forward to get his knife while the captain glared at him even as the corners of his mouth twitched. The other men within view of the scene laughed until the captain glanced at them.
Hun returned and said with a straight face, “It always helps to look at where you’re throwing.” He nodded expansively to add emphasis.
Another sailor tightening a rope next to Taryn leaned over to him, “Don’t let him fool ya, he’s the best o’ the crew with a knife.”
It didn’t take long for Taryn to agree. Like an oiled hinge, Hun whipped out a knife and threw it straight into the board, sinking half the blade just to the left of center. Despite the quick movement, Taryn took careful note of how he threw it. The way he twisted it and tossed it underhand seemed simple enough. A few seconds later, two more knives were in the target within an inch of the first—thrown the same way.
Taryn whistled in appreciation. It was good throwing, and all the more impressive on a rocking boat.
“Are you sure you want to teach me? You never know, I may be a terrible,” he said as he pulled out one of the knives his uncle had given him. Even though he had only seen a knife thrown three times, he was pretty sure he could duplicate the move, even if he couldn’t do it as well. With a quick turn and throw he sent it digging into the target a hand’s breadth from Hunrin’s knives. It wasn’t quite as good a throw as Hunrin’s, but it nevertheless seemed to impress the small man.
“By Ero’s staff!” Hunrin shouted in astonishment. “I’ve never seen anyone be able to do that so quickly.”
The sailor that had commented on Hunrin’s ability stopped and came over to Taryn. “Five copper says you can’t do that again.”
Ten coppers and two knives later the betting had spread like wildfire. When Liri and several others joined the group of spectators, Taryn began to regret he’d taken the bet. He didn’t care for this much attention, and it left him feeling uncomfortable enough to miss the next few throws. Growling under his breath, he focused on Hun instructing him to imagine sticking the knife into the target and showing him how to angle it down to get the best throw.
It only took a few repetitions of pulling out his knives before he was able to get each blade nearly where he wanted it. Although he felt the heavy scrutiny, he still felt confident that with some decent practice he could master the technique.
Hun seemed intent on teaching Taryn to throw from every possible angle, high or low, on the ship. By mid morning he had managed to strike his target from anywhere—even behind the back or with his body turned. Even though few hit near the center, he performed adequately enough during the fast paced lesson, but he wondered how many others the impatient sailor had successfully taught.
Having learned the basics of knife throwing so quickly, Taryn assumed that the lesson would be over, but Hun returned to where he was standing above the aft cabin and handed him his knives back.
“You’ve done great, kid, but the real challenge comes next. You need to learn how to avoid a knife getting thrown at you.”
“Are you serious? How are you going to teach me that?” Taryn began, but Hun was already pulling two wooden knives out of his pocket.
“I’m gunna throw these at you, and you’re gunna dodge them.” His smile broadened. “If you want to try to catch ̓em you can.” His face showed how foolhardy he thought that would be. “But I’ve only ever heard of one person able to do that, and he was a blasted thief. Now, go stand next to the target and I will see if I can hit you,” he said as he descended the stairs and took up a position in front of the aft cabin.
As Taryn stepped down to follow him, Liri sidled up close to him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Why not? They are just wooden knives. Besides, it might prove useful.”
“OK . . .” Liri sounded uncertain. “But be careful, would you?”
Before he could answer, Hun called to him, “You need to be able to see what it looks like to have a knife coming at you, so I am going to throw these wooden knives a little slow, and then throw them faster once you have gotten used to it, OK?”
Taryn nodded, but he was suddenly very aware of how large the crowd had swelled. Nearly all of the crew lined the rails, smiling and talking to each other. Let’s see you try this, he thought, not particularly pleased at the turn of events. The flash of coins exchanging hands caused him to glance sideways, but then he did a double take. Liri was betting too! He was about to ask her what in Skorn’s name she was doing, but a quick movement brought his attention back to Hun and the wooden knife streaking towards him. Out of instinct he sidestepped and the fake blade clattered off the captains’ door and fell to the deck.
Cheers and laughter burst out from the spectators. Another quick glance showed that now nearly every one of the sailors appeared to be participating in the rampant gambling. I’m glad I can provide some entertainment during your voyage, he thought, his brow furrowed in annoyance. Right now, he just wanted the lesson to end so he could escape to the crow’s nest.
Like a flash of lightning, he realized for the first time that there might be some benefits to the anonymity he’d had his whole life. Recalling his conversation with Liri on the docks, he thought perhaps there was more truth to Liri’s words than he’d given credit.
A split second later the other knife came at him but he was still distracted and unprepared, ducking and spinning back to his original position.
Even distracted, he smiled to himself. I can do this, he thought while stooping to pick up the two wooden knives.
After tossing them back to Hun he readied himself again. This round he did better, and focused enough to watch the spinning knife slice through the air towards him. By the next attempt, Taryn wanted to see if he could catch it. He watched very carefully as Hun leaned forward and threw the knife. Poised as he was, it wasn’t difficult for him to sidestep again, but this time he reached out and picked it clean out of the air before it hit the door behind him. Even though he’d caught the wood halfway on the knife portion, he was pretty sure he could do better the next time.
Liri wasn’t the only one to applaud at that.
“Kid, you are just too good, ain’t ya!” Hun yelled, his voice exultant. “This time I am going to throw it as quick as I normally do.”
The next throw really came faster, although Taryn was still able to pick it out of the air without too much of a problem. It was also easier to catch it while he spun to one side or the other, because he didn’t have to stop the momentum, but could keep it going. He could imagine himself spinning and whipping the knife back at the thrower. The mental image made him smile inwardly, wondering if it would actually work.
By the time the next two throws came, Taryn was able to see the handle of the spinning knife and snatch it out of the air without even grabbing the “blade” portion of the fake knife.
The watching men were pointing and talking excitedly by now. Trin in particular appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, while Mae had her usual inscrutable expression painted across her elven features.
Hunrin caught the two wooden knives that Taryn had just tossed to him. Without hesitation or warning he threw them right back at him in quick succession. On reflex, Taryn twisted and c
aught one, and then the other—and then without warning a third wooden knife appeared out of the corner of his eye.
Looking back at Hun showed him to be already releasing another fake knife in Taryn’s direction. Not only was Taryn off balance from the first two, but he was unprepared for the third. Despite this, he dropped the wooden knives and exploded into motion. In a single lightning move, he turned back towards Hun, caught the third wooden knife by the handle, twisted the way he’d imagined, and whipped it straight at Hun—off balance and slow, but still accurate. A split second later a wooden knife sunk quivering, embedded in the door behind Hun and hands breadth from his head.
For a moment everyone didn’t move, stunned. Then uninhibited applause broke out. Sailors shouted and called out. Hun grabbed his knives and came to Taryn, shouting to be heard over the din, “Well kid, I don’t think you still need lessons! Just don’t forget who taught you.”
Taryn forced a thank you, but what he had just done felt surreal, and caused his stomach to tighten. How did he just do that? It should have been impossible, and he knew he should have just dodged. It would have been the smart thing to do. Why did he try for more? Then he realized the more important question was, why did it work? Oddly, he felt more annoyed than anything else. He had no explanation why weapons came so naturally to him, but as he caught sight of Liri, he just wished something else would be as easy.
Without warning, someone began shouting in alarm, louder than the rest of the group. At first Taryn couldn’t pick out who it was, and then he saw the captain standing next to the helm. He was leaning on the rail and looking southward, out to sea. Taryn followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of sails in the distance. One by one the other men silenced themselves and found places against the rail to see.
“Can anyone see what color the sails are?” someone called out.
“Frey, get my glass,” the captain ordered. The first mate detached himself from the group and went into the captain’s cabin. A few seconds later he returned with the captain’s spyglass. As the captain put the distance viewer to his eye, Taryn leaned over to Hun.
