Genesis 073
Feb. 7th, 2006 11:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Teachings
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ Genesis 073. Was going to be angstier than this, but then I decided screw it, I'm not in an angsty fic mood, so there's only a bit of it at the end to make it fit the inspiration X3;
~ ~ ~
Haenel rode up between two of his fellow swordsmen with a yawn. “So how long until we hit the border?”
Rumal laughed and shook his head. “At least another three weeks yet. We’ve only just left Ni-Mytaa.”
The new recruit sighed and slouched down in the saddle.
“You’ve been to Kazin before, haven’t you?” Emon asked with a frown, “Aren’t you the son of a merchant?”
Haenel nodded. “I was just hoping horses were faster than that. Still, it’ll be three weeks less than with a train of camels.”
Emon folded his arms on his horse’s neck. “What’s your hurry, rookie? Personally speaking I’d rather take as long as possible to get up there.”
Rumal snorted. “I’d rather get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. The less time away from Ni-Yana, the better.”
Haenel frowned in genuine confusion. “But this is what you live for, isn’t it? I mean, protecting the kingdom, knocking off a few Kazinians, riding through the countryside on horses, for Lin’s sake! Sounds like fun.”
“Oh yeah,” Rumal said cynically, holding up the remaining three fingers of his right hand and sharing a knowing glance with the other veteran.
“Fantastic fun,” Emon agreed, inspecting his own missing finger.
Haenel shrank back in his saddle involuntarily. “Well, apart from that bit.”
“That and the cold,” Rumal added.
“And the rain. And the snow, and being woken up in the middle of the night by ambushes, and Nol’s cooking…”
“Okay, I get the point. I’ve been to Kazin before, remember?”
“Not with Nol, you haven’t.”
Haenel laughed, then looked down at Emon’s left hand. “Does it hurt?” he asked, just to change the subject.
Emon was massaging the stump where there was once a finger with his thumb. “Sometimes, if I hit it too hard on something or get a particularly jarring blow with the sword.”
Rumal shrugged. “That pain will wear off,” he mumbled.
“Just a tip,” Emon said seriously to the young recruit, “Always try and deflect an arrow with your sword, never your hand.” He shook his head sagely.
Haenel nodded with the same mock graveness. “I’ll keep that in mind. How did you lose yours, Rumal?”
Emon slapped his forehead with his palm and groaned quietly. “Here we go,” he muttered.
The older swordsman cast him an irritated look, then straitened in his saddle again. “A Kazinian swordsman on a black horse caught it with his sword. He didn’t chop it off completely, but it was gone enough.” He dug his heels into his mare’s flanks and rode on ahead, leaving Haenel frowning at his back in confusion.
“I get the impression there’s more to it than that,” he noted.
“There is,” Emon confirmed, also frowning in confusion at the veteran swordie. “Normally he likes to tell all the gory details. Scaring off the opposition, Melraan calls it.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not opposition anymore?”
Emon shrugged. “That’s probably it,” but something in the swordsman’s face told Haenel that it wasn’t.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ Genesis 073. Was going to be angstier than this, but then I decided screw it, I'm not in an angsty fic mood, so there's only a bit of it at the end to make it fit the inspiration X3;
Haenel rode up between two of his fellow swordsmen with a yawn. “So how long until we hit the border?”
Rumal laughed and shook his head. “At least another three weeks yet. We’ve only just left Ni-Mytaa.”
The new recruit sighed and slouched down in the saddle.
“You’ve been to Kazin before, haven’t you?” Emon asked with a frown, “Aren’t you the son of a merchant?”
Haenel nodded. “I was just hoping horses were faster than that. Still, it’ll be three weeks less than with a train of camels.”
Emon folded his arms on his horse’s neck. “What’s your hurry, rookie? Personally speaking I’d rather take as long as possible to get up there.”
Rumal snorted. “I’d rather get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. The less time away from Ni-Yana, the better.”
Haenel frowned in genuine confusion. “But this is what you live for, isn’t it? I mean, protecting the kingdom, knocking off a few Kazinians, riding through the countryside on horses, for Lin’s sake! Sounds like fun.”
“Oh yeah,” Rumal said cynically, holding up the remaining three fingers of his right hand and sharing a knowing glance with the other veteran.
“Fantastic fun,” Emon agreed, inspecting his own missing finger.
Haenel shrank back in his saddle involuntarily. “Well, apart from that bit.”
“That and the cold,” Rumal added.
“And the rain. And the snow, and being woken up in the middle of the night by ambushes, and Nol’s cooking…”
“Okay, I get the point. I’ve been to Kazin before, remember?”
“Not with Nol, you haven’t.”
Haenel laughed, then looked down at Emon’s left hand. “Does it hurt?” he asked, just to change the subject.
Emon was massaging the stump where there was once a finger with his thumb. “Sometimes, if I hit it too hard on something or get a particularly jarring blow with the sword.”
Rumal shrugged. “That pain will wear off,” he mumbled.
“Just a tip,” Emon said seriously to the young recruit, “Always try and deflect an arrow with your sword, never your hand.” He shook his head sagely.
Haenel nodded with the same mock graveness. “I’ll keep that in mind. How did you lose yours, Rumal?”
Emon slapped his forehead with his palm and groaned quietly. “Here we go,” he muttered.
The older swordsman cast him an irritated look, then straitened in his saddle again. “A Kazinian swordsman on a black horse caught it with his sword. He didn’t chop it off completely, but it was gone enough.” He dug his heels into his mare’s flanks and rode on ahead, leaving Haenel frowning at his back in confusion.
“I get the impression there’s more to it than that,” he noted.
“There is,” Emon confirmed, also frowning in confusion at the veteran swordie. “Normally he likes to tell all the gory details. Scaring off the opposition, Melraan calls it.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not opposition anymore?”
Emon shrugged. “That’s probably it,” but something in the swordsman’s face told Haenel that it wasn’t.