A Leaf and Pebble

by Andrew Monroe

  A sinking feeling rose into me as I looked at the board. The kind of feeling you get when a realization that I would yet again be losing. Terribly.

  “So, you play often?” I asked.

  She grinned, all teeth. “You could say it’s a hobby of mine. Swords and Shields? I’m a bit old school,” she said, touching her gray streaked hair.

  We took our seats, facing opposite of each other. First move to me. Remembering Thecily’s advice, I immediately went on the offensive.

  Yillan’s play seemed chaotic. Pieces moving at angles, not attacking, but not grouping for defense either. I slowly bled her pieces, yet she steadily grew control of the board’s center.

  It was a long game, but I had essentially lost half way through. For each piece I took of hers, she trapped or blocked two of mine.

  “Again,” I said when she’d officially won.

  Smirking, she began to set the pieces back up.

  “Also, I wouldn’t mind any tips. I’ve not seen anyone play so, um, wildly.” I grinned sheepishly.

  This time, I tried to follow Qaewin’s advice, playing all defense, building up my pieces into juggernauts, while she organized a veritable maze across the board’s center. While I grew my pieces, she would periodically move a piece into proximity of mine. I ignored these, knowing they could do nothing as they were too few.

  And then the slaughter began. Or my suicide, depending on your definition. Breaking from the defensive strategy, I began attacking. But that maze was more ingenious than I anticipated. A piece or two shifted, and hers would have majority advantage, nullifying my attacks. Again, the game was suddenly, and irrevocably in her favor, success guaranteed. A few more moves, and it was over.

  “You play too straightforward,” she said, setting the pieces back up. “From the get go, your strategy is known. You do nothing to hide it. Every strategy has a weakness.”

  I nodded as if I understood, though it was only because I was too embarrassed to admit otherwise.

  “Play less static. Blend, change, confuse. I hear misdirection is a strong point of you and your friend. Use that talent.” She nodded as if it was something very wise she’d said.

  That, on the other hand, did make sense. “A bit of skulduggery, eh?”

  “If that’s what you need to call it.” She picked up a piece, examining each side with a critical eye. “It’s about flexibility.”

  “Like water style?” I interrupted, excited to know where the conversation was going.

  “No, not really. That’s just another type of strategy.” Yillan set the piece down gently. “You need to be water sometimes. While also building up for an earth-based attack. Also while making your opponent think you are doing neither.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” Irritation edged my voice.

  “It does. You just don’t have mastery enough to see it. My movements just look random to you. Once you’re better, you’ll stop seeing chaos, and instead see my deception.” She finished setting the board.

  I sighed. Losing sucks. Again, I took the first move. At the very least, I wouldn’t let her control the center again. “You’re probably right. As cryptic as your advice seems to be.”

  Her eyes locked on mine and she moved her piece. She gave the slightest of smiles, and the battle continued.

  Our fifth game was beginning when an arrow thudded into the board, illuminated by a shaft of sunshine from the new hole in the tent’s ceiling.

  “Left hand of god!” Yiillan growled, dropping to the ground, stool now acting as a makeshift shield she crouched behind. I ducked down with her, waiting for another arrow to strike. When nothing happened, we stood, taking in the scene.

  “I see,” she said. Her face was red with anger. A swift motion and she’d yanked the arrow out, holding it for me to see the red and white fletching. “This is one of ours.”

  Not saying another word, she stormed out of the tent with me trailing behind. All the better really, I was about to lose yet again, and it might have been the last straw for our burgeoning friendship. We paced out into the field from the arrow’s direction. A group of soldiers stood around a small form holding a bow. It was Jepp.

  Thirty-three

  When Jepp saw Yillan bearing down on him like a storm before the east wind, I thought he might wet himself. He may have, actually. Hard to tell this far out.

  “You shoot this arrow?” she barked once in range.

  “Yes,” Jepp squeaked.

  “At. Our. Camp.” It was not a question.

  Too scared to say anything, his head dipped in a tiny nod.

  Yillan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly with her eyes closed. “This isn’t a game. We aren’t pretending here. Double shift tonight for all of you. Starting now. Report to the shift lead.”

  As the group left, Jepp remained, still frozen with fear.

  I looked at the terrified boy. “What about my Learner?”

  Twirling the arrow, she stepped towards the boy until she stood a scant few inches before him. The arrow stopped spinning. Its point came to a rest between Jepp’s eyes, laying against the curve of his nose. “This arrow nearly killed me.”

  A slight exaggeration, but it didn’t seem my place to argue. Jepp also stayed silent.

  “I thought about having you locked up. But we need you.” She removed the arrow and pulled a dirk from her boot. She cut three small x’s into the shaft, one near the head, one in the middle, and the last by the fletching. “After the battle, I shall be looking for this arrow. If I don’t find it in an Equal’s body, and you’re still alive-” she paused, as if thinking. “Well, suffice to say, you better have made peace with your path before I find you again.”

  Jepp took the arrow. His hands shook as he held it. He looked at me for the first time when Yillan turned away and strode off.

  “I think she was serious, Jepp,” I said with a sympathetic smile. “Go find yourself some lunch, and swing by my tent when you’re ready. I’ll help you figure out how to shoot an arrow without a bow you can’t even pull back.”

  “Yes sir, Nil,” he stammered out, and ran back towards the tents.

  Volant was waiting for me in the tent, gleaming rapier lying across his lap as he sketched in his new book. “Ho, leafer” he greeted, gesturing for me to sit. “I’d almost given up hope, and was going to find you as soon as I finished this.”

  “Oh?” I replied. “Qaewin grow bored of your fawning all morning?”

  He snorted, but said nothing. We sat in silence until with a flourishing sweep of his hand, he shut the book and hid it in the bag.

  “What’s with the sword?” I asked.

  He looked down at the naked blade. “Ah, that.” Standing, he swished the tip through the air. “Thought you’d want practice. Qaewin thinks they will attack tonight when the last company arrives.”

  “Sure, but Jepp should be showing up any time now to learn how to throw a Skill assisted arrow. Otherwise, Yillan may end up flogging him.” As we walked back out to a space to spar, I filled Volant in with the details from my morning.

  “This grass is becoming my least favorite part about this area.” Volant cut at packed grass, “although, the sunrises are truly spectacular. Not even on my mother’s ship have they ever looked as good.”

  “That’s what everyone says,” I replied. “Personally, I have yet to notice anything special about a sunset or sunrise. Maybe I’m broken inside.”

  I heard a disappointed, almost reproving sigh from Volant. We’d always had a differing opinion on beauty. He saw art, sculptures, architectural feats, and other such works as something to be admired. Sunrises and sunsets were candy to him. A well-manicured garden, a reason to live.

  On the other hand, I saw physicality as beauty supreme. Talent and ability, creation, composition. There was more beauty in the sculptor carving his marble than the finished creation to me. Accomplishment, especially over nature, were what I found inspired me. A well written book. A hard-won contest. This difference
in opinions ran deep, and had caused its fair share of arguments. Deep down, I wished I could appreciate a sunrise. Feel the magic others felt.

  Volant stretched, back popping in relief. “That’s the stuff.” He wiped the blade, cleaning non-existent dirt off.

  “Have at, ye bimble brained blow fest!” I shouted enthusiastically, swinging my new fighting dagger in a reverse grip.

  His sword came up, pushing aside my quicker, lighter dagger. I pulled out the cleaver like knife with my other hand, using it to block the counter thrust while I stepped in, thrusting again with the fighting knife.

  Another block. Another parry. Around we circled, a blur of metal snapping sharply against each other. Music to my ears.

  We broke apart after another intense back and forth. We each stood panting, faces red, and sweat practically steaming off us in the cool air. Mirror images against the low sun on the horizon.

  “Another few hours till sunset,” I said. “That was the closest I’ve been to winning so far, let’s leave it there and I’ll be off to find Jepp and see why he hasn’t shown up.”

  Volant grinned, saluting wildly with the rapier before sheathing it. “Very well. But know I was going easy on you.”

  “Easy-- easy on me!” I sputtered. “You dog worshiping, air-born gnat. I was going easy on you,” I shot back. Bowing as dramatically as he’d saluted, I twirled the two knives in a figure eight, shoving both back into their places on my belt with satisfying thunks.

  “Yup, you had that look.” He gestured in the general direction of my face. “The one you get when you lose at something.”

  “I do not have a look!” I protested

  Volant arched an eyebrow. “You definitely do.”

  “Well, fine. Lost a few games of Kingdoms against Yillan.” I glared at him. “She’s really good.”

  Volant just shook his head sympathetically. We were meandering back through the camp, searching for Jepp when Dioden himself found us. Dark bags hung under his eyes. He looked like he could fall asleep standing there in front of us, a slight sway to his movements.

  “I’ve been looking for you two,” he said. “We aren’t going to wait on the last company. I need you to have the Misfits ready by sunset.”

  “Good to see you too, supreme,” Volant drawled. He grunted when I elbowed him in the side while Dioden looked on, unfazed.

  “The cloudling is still warming to the camp.” I said apologetically. “You need a bit of sleep, it would appear.”

  Dioden nodded slowly. “You were the last I had to find. Let your Learners know. Keep them close.” Stifling a yawn, Dioden looked at us critically. “I’m going to sleep for the next couple of hours. See you at the perimeter.” Without another word or waiting for a response, he strolled away.

  “This’ll be interesting.” I looked to Volant for confirmation. He grunted noncommittally.

  It took us a bit to round the group up. Jepp was easy, cowering in his tent, arrow in one hand, a book in the other. Alisandra proved marginally more difficult, having migrated her sleeping quarters near the back of the camp with another two scrawny Learners. Cousins of hers who were drafted into the Misfits on the spot.

  Xen was gambling with some men, an oddly homogeneous group of Soft Steppers and Thumpers who’d joined from Brod’s Below. It took some convincing to have him come along, and a slight woman wearing the sun-bleached leather of a Soft Stepper followed once we had him up and at it.

  By the time we found Udan and Lori, who had been waiting in our tent, we had a parade of Misfits and a fair number of friends who seemed to have attached themselves to our squad.

  We planted a makeshift flag and took occupation of a spot near the front line. A few more Learners from the other companies joined us as we ate, sharing stories and jokes, each person doing their best to ignore the nervousness hiding below the smiles.

  Each of the newcomers had been briefed, and treated Volant and I with far more deference than we deserved. A pair of Elites even sat with us, spouses of two Learners. As individuals, they didn’t have any of the animosity the other Elites had shown us.

  “Jepp,” I called across the circle. I waved him over when he looked up.

  Arrow in hand, he hurried over. Bread crumbs stuck to his shirt.

  “Ready to learn how to launch that pointy stick of yours?” I asked.

  He nodded. “You think I can learn before, um, tonight’s, um thing?”

  “If you focus, and do as I say, absolutely.” I stood. We walked a bit from the group. Volant had somehow found Qaewin, and they huddled together, whispering to each other, arms entwined. Oddly, I didn’t feel any jealousy at what looked like a burgeoning romance between them.

  Without my friend to redirect the arrow back to us, I decided we’d aim for up instead of out.

  “Well Jepp.” I took the arrow. “Let’s start with pooling some Skill into just your palm.” Demonstrating, I turned my palm up, forming a cup. Improbably, the arrow balanced in my upturned hand. Thumb on one side of the shaft, fingers curving on the other side, none actually touching the wood. The slightest vibration could be seen in the fletching.

  Jepp looked on in awe. Not being able to resist a bit of showmanship, I slowly twisted my fingers to the side, spinning the arrow with only a little wobble.

  “Whoa,” Jepp said in a low voice. As a fellow Learner, he could not necessarily see, but feel the lines of Skill.

  There was no need to explain any of it to him. Realization dawned on his face. In turn, I sprung my fingers apart. With nothing holding the arrow in place now, it launched upward as if shot from a small bow.

  “There’s no way I can do that,” Jepp said. His eyes were locked on the descending arrow as it fell back down.

  “Sure ya can,” I said, also watching.

  High above us, the heavy metal tip turned over and began to fall back. It picked up speed, a susurrus marching its steady acceleration. With a quiet thump, the arrow buried itself in the ground.

  “Your turn.” I handed him the arrow.

  Jepp tugged the arrow out of the grass. Knocking dirt away from the arrowhead, he looked at me skeptically.

  “Oh fine, maybe I was showing off a bit.” I replied to his reproachful look. “Try holding it the same way, but actually pinch the shaft with your hands. Let go at the same time you push against the arrow, just try not to use too much Skill, we do probably have some conflict coming up rather soon.” I looked at him, and the small hands grasping the feathered shaft. “Be sure to let go. That fletching can give you a nasty cut if you’re not careful.

  Already concentrating on his Skill, he gritted his teeth. Nothing happened. Then, just when I thought he’d give up, the arrow erupted from his upturned hand, flying a good dozen paces into the air before coming back to nearly skewer the boy.

  I flicked a finger out, ironically the same movement for watch out in our finger language, sending a small burst of Skill to knock the arrow away from the boy who was too busy gaping at his bleeding hand to remember the arrow.

  “Gods above!” he exclaimed. “It cut me!”

  I ignored him, instead going to pick up the arrow which had disappeared in the grass next to him.

  “Oh.” He looked down sheepishly when I handed it back to him. “Oops.”

  I tore off a strip of his too long shirt and wrapped the shallow cuts that graced his fingers now. “Told you it would. Those feathers can give you the world’s nastiest paper cut.” With a light tap on his head, I handed the arrow back.

  It took another couple of tries before he had it down well enough to possibly hit someone and make it stick. Of course, he was also completely drained of Skill by that point.

  “When you are actually trying to skewer someone with this, use your arm as well.” I made the same cupping motion, but cocked my arm back as if I was going to throw a ball. “Hey cloudling,” I yelled to Volant. “Incoming!” With that, I threw the arrow spiraling at my friend.

  Not even bothering to get up, he swung his off
hand up and around, fingers splayed at the incoming arrow. Wind pushed against the arrow, slowing it to a stop. Still without moving, he plucked the falling arrow out of the air and stuck it in the ground next to him.

  I clapped and Jepp joined in after a moment’s stunned silence.

  At this point, more squads were appearing near us. Huddled together, sharpening spears and doing whatever inscrutable things men who are about to commit violence do to prepare. Dioden’s remaining army milled just at the tent line. I’d heard somewhere that out of every hundred men, only one or two actually had the caliber to be warriors. Everyone else was churn. The thought worried me.

  Our shadows were growing longer as the sun set. When it happened, it was sudden. We were sitting there, nervously chatting, when the next moment, every horn was blowing in a panicked cacophony. Men were charging through the safe corridors between the defensive spear wall. Our Misfits were up in a heartbeat, looking wild eyed at the uniformed men rushing towards the enormous camp of Equals across the grasslands. Hiding under the noise of shouting men, distant horns could be heard from the other side’s camp.

  Thirty-four

  Dioden appeared next to us, hand on my shoulder. “Neutralize any of the Naturals. Don’t get killed.” And then he was gone, chasing after his Guard-turned-soldiers. The streams of men converged together, forming ranks, until a shape was formed, Dioden at the back, shouting orders. By the time everyone was in position, the formation was quick marching through the tall grass, snail paced in comparison to the mad rush out onto the open grass.

  We caught up at a light jog, our small group weaving back and forth behind the Guard. Not knowing what else to do, I stayed near Volant, while the rest followed closely behind us. I noticed a distinct lack of Soft Steppers in the ranks. No time to consider it though, there was war to wage. Individuals came into view as we continued towards the camp. None of them were holding weapons. Naturals didn’t need them.