Blade Archer ~ Twenty-One
Feb. 17th, 2013 04:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yraeThough he was exhausted at the beginning and the end of every day, arms and back aching and eyes gritty with lack of sleep, Kael was happy. The boys in training left him alone, for the most part, and the masters had decided that they were all of an equal enough level that they could fight amongst themselves, so he rarely ever had to clash blades with Niloren anymore.
He earned enough money now that he only had to work a few days every week to pay for food. He would have liked more, but he equally needed time to himself. From every day of pay, he saved one copper coin. Sometimes he had to spend it, when the price of vegetables at the market went up or when Ronanen came for dinner, but slowly, so slowly, he was collecting money. Ronanen had woven a small box from the leaves of palm fronds for him to keep his savings in, and he hid the box in a hole he dug under the wall of his house, buried under a thin layer of sand and dust.
‘What are you saving for?’ Ronanen asked one evening as he was walking her home. In his palm, he was admiring his first ever silver coin, warm and glinting against his skin.
He fisted it with a grin. ‘Secret,’ he told her, as he did every time. His eighteenth birthday had been and gone a month ago, and still he hadn’t spent his money. He knew the event he wanted to spend it on, but not yet precisely how. He’d never spent a large sum of money before. He didn’t know what things were worth.
He pocketed the silver coin and reached for Ronanen’s hand instead, smiling down gratefully at the young healer.
And there, behind her. A shadow moved in the darkness. Silent and sleek as a cat, the shadow leaped onto the street.
Kael grabbed Ronanen’s wrist and flung her behind him to meet the attacker head on.
‘Stay back!’ he shouted, his dagger already drawn. The mugger was right in front of him now, dressed in dark clothes but with wide, wary eyes.
Kael scanned the alleys and rooftops around him with quick, furtive glances, but it appeared the attacker was alone. He dared a glance behind him to where he had thrown Ronanen, only able to see that she was curled up against the far wall, her hands to her mouth as she watched on. Good, he thought as he repositioned himself to be between her and his attacker. She was safe.
The man lunged forward at Kael’s momentary distraction. He held a dagger in each hand, both shining in the moonlight. Kael ducked under one and met the other with his own, deliberately aiming past the dagger to the hand that held it. He caught a light nick from the opposing blade through the webbing of his thumb and forefinger, but the cry his opponent let out told him he’d done far more damage.
The blade clattered to the ground. Kael lunged forward over it to ensure the mugger in the darkness couldn’t snatch his blade back. Blood shimmered silver where it dripped from his injured hand, and he spun his other nervously in his fingers as he eyed the young blade archer.
‘I earned that coin,’ Kael spat at him, bending to pick up the second blade, though he knew he was hopeless with his right hand. The dagger master had begun showing them how to use two blades at once earlier that year, but Kael quickly learned he was not ambidextrous.
The mugger lunged again, his blade slashing at Kael’s throat, but not before Kael was able to dash it away and dodge a second attempt to stab at his chest. Kael growled as he slashed back wildly with both blades, all memory of the moves he had been learning in training dissolving in the heat of battle.
The mugger danced back, easily dodging Kael’s flurries as he backed down the road. He was looking nervous now, finally realising that the target he had chosen for the night wasn’t quite so defenceless as he had undoubtedly hoped. He flipped his remaining dagger around, caught it by the tip of the blade, and threw.
Kael had been drilling the very defence he put up all afternoon, slashing the flying dagger from the air with his own.
Ronanen screamed, and the mugger bolted. His dagger, Kael noticed belatedly, had landed right at Ronanen’s feet.
Kael cursed himself, watching to make sure the mugger was gone. He was tempted to knock the man down and give him a scar on the back of his wrist for his efforts, but he had more pressing issues for the moment. He shoved his blade back in its sheath and rushed to Ronanen’s side.
‘Ye hurt?’ he asked, holding her shoulders and quickly running his eyes over her legs, her arms, her face. He curled her hair from her face as she nodded timidly, then she threw her arms around him and cried into his shoulder.
‘I was so scared,’ she wailed. ‘I thought he was going to kill you!’
Kael took a deep breath and stroked her hair as he hugged her back. ‘Not a trainee of the queen’s army,’ he promised her. ‘Let’s get ye home safe.’
They walked in silence for a while, Kael alert for any sounds or signs that the attacker might return. The more he thought on it, the less he believed it was the simple mugging he had initially thought it was. He didn’t dare voice his concerns to Ronanen, though, not while she was still so shaken. Her hug as he farewelled her at her front door was a desperate cling.
‘Please be careful,’ she begged him. ‘Stay here for the night. Mother and Father won’t mind, not if you tell them what happened.’
Kael shook his head. ‘I’ll be careful,’ he promised. ‘I need to get home to Ma. She’ll be worried.’
‘I’m worried,’ Ronanen protested, but she reluctantly let him go. She held his hands as she reached up for a kiss. ‘I won’t forgive you if I don’t see you again.’
‘You will, promise.’ He kissed her back, squeezed her hands once more, and began the long walk home.
Left to his own thoughts, the flashing fight in the streets replayed itself over in his mind. That had certainly not been a mugging. No southerner would risk a scar on someone like him. He never tried to hide who he was and, though he wore his army trainee’s uniform, it was as worn and dishevelled as his casual clothes now. He walked barefoot, and never tried to hide the scars on his wrist. He looked the poor southerner he was, and were he to see himself passing in the street, he wouldn’t even consider himself worth a second look.
And then there was the manner of the fight itself. If their positions had been reversed, Kael would have fled as soon as he realised his intended victim could fight, but this attacker had fought on. The man had slashed at his throat, stabbed at his ribs and finally thrown his dagger in desperation. Kael swallowed and rubbed his throat with one hand, only a little bemused to find the roughness of new stubble growing there. The man had tried to kill him.
The realisation prickled with a cold sweat over his skin.
‘Mama,’ he mumbled, and broke into a run. His previously fatigued body found new life as he raced south, taking as many short cuts as he knew, slamming his hand against the walls to keep from crashing into them. Even as his lungs began to ache and his throat grew too dry to swallow, adrenaline fired him on. Someone had tried to kill him, and Mama was alone.
He broke over the Main Road and into the southern districts without a pause, flying down the familiar streets, wishing they were less meandering. The bends and the narrow alleys slowed him down and gave his legs just enough of a taste for rest that they shook and begged for more.
Finally, Kael’s modest one-room mud brick house appeared down the road.
‘Ma!’ he shouted as he ran. ‘Ma! Are ye there!’ He grabbed the edge of the door frame, crumbling some of the brittle old wall away in his haste as he flew into the room. ‘Ma!’
Kathani was curled up under the threadbare blanket, undisturbed. The room seemed untouched—even the hole where Kael hid his money box was still covered with sand. Everything seemed normal, except that Kael had burst shouting into the room, and Kathani hadn’t moved.
He crossed the two steps shaking and dropped to his knees beside his mother, pleading with her in an increasingly desperate voice. Even before he grabbed at her shoulder to wake her up, he knew she would be asleep forever.
‘Mama,’ he begged, rolling her over. The blanket was still warm, but already Kathani’s limbs were growing stiff. Her face was peaceful and calm, her eyes closed and mouth curled in a dreamlike smile. Her throat had been slit as she slept.
He earned enough money now that he only had to work a few days every week to pay for food. He would have liked more, but he equally needed time to himself. From every day of pay, he saved one copper coin. Sometimes he had to spend it, when the price of vegetables at the market went up or when Ronanen came for dinner, but slowly, so slowly, he was collecting money. Ronanen had woven a small box from the leaves of palm fronds for him to keep his savings in, and he hid the box in a hole he dug under the wall of his house, buried under a thin layer of sand and dust.
‘What are you saving for?’ Ronanen asked one evening as he was walking her home. In his palm, he was admiring his first ever silver coin, warm and glinting against his skin.
He fisted it with a grin. ‘Secret,’ he told her, as he did every time. His eighteenth birthday had been and gone a month ago, and still he hadn’t spent his money. He knew the event he wanted to spend it on, but not yet precisely how. He’d never spent a large sum of money before. He didn’t know what things were worth.
He pocketed the silver coin and reached for Ronanen’s hand instead, smiling down gratefully at the young healer.
And there, behind her. A shadow moved in the darkness. Silent and sleek as a cat, the shadow leaped onto the street.
Kael grabbed Ronanen’s wrist and flung her behind him to meet the attacker head on.
‘Stay back!’ he shouted, his dagger already drawn. The mugger was right in front of him now, dressed in dark clothes but with wide, wary eyes.
Kael scanned the alleys and rooftops around him with quick, furtive glances, but it appeared the attacker was alone. He dared a glance behind him to where he had thrown Ronanen, only able to see that she was curled up against the far wall, her hands to her mouth as she watched on. Good, he thought as he repositioned himself to be between her and his attacker. She was safe.
The man lunged forward at Kael’s momentary distraction. He held a dagger in each hand, both shining in the moonlight. Kael ducked under one and met the other with his own, deliberately aiming past the dagger to the hand that held it. He caught a light nick from the opposing blade through the webbing of his thumb and forefinger, but the cry his opponent let out told him he’d done far more damage.
The blade clattered to the ground. Kael lunged forward over it to ensure the mugger in the darkness couldn’t snatch his blade back. Blood shimmered silver where it dripped from his injured hand, and he spun his other nervously in his fingers as he eyed the young blade archer.
‘I earned that coin,’ Kael spat at him, bending to pick up the second blade, though he knew he was hopeless with his right hand. The dagger master had begun showing them how to use two blades at once earlier that year, but Kael quickly learned he was not ambidextrous.
The mugger lunged again, his blade slashing at Kael’s throat, but not before Kael was able to dash it away and dodge a second attempt to stab at his chest. Kael growled as he slashed back wildly with both blades, all memory of the moves he had been learning in training dissolving in the heat of battle.
The mugger danced back, easily dodging Kael’s flurries as he backed down the road. He was looking nervous now, finally realising that the target he had chosen for the night wasn’t quite so defenceless as he had undoubtedly hoped. He flipped his remaining dagger around, caught it by the tip of the blade, and threw.
Kael had been drilling the very defence he put up all afternoon, slashing the flying dagger from the air with his own.
Ronanen screamed, and the mugger bolted. His dagger, Kael noticed belatedly, had landed right at Ronanen’s feet.
Kael cursed himself, watching to make sure the mugger was gone. He was tempted to knock the man down and give him a scar on the back of his wrist for his efforts, but he had more pressing issues for the moment. He shoved his blade back in its sheath and rushed to Ronanen’s side.
‘Ye hurt?’ he asked, holding her shoulders and quickly running his eyes over her legs, her arms, her face. He curled her hair from her face as she nodded timidly, then she threw her arms around him and cried into his shoulder.
‘I was so scared,’ she wailed. ‘I thought he was going to kill you!’
Kael took a deep breath and stroked her hair as he hugged her back. ‘Not a trainee of the queen’s army,’ he promised her. ‘Let’s get ye home safe.’
They walked in silence for a while, Kael alert for any sounds or signs that the attacker might return. The more he thought on it, the less he believed it was the simple mugging he had initially thought it was. He didn’t dare voice his concerns to Ronanen, though, not while she was still so shaken. Her hug as he farewelled her at her front door was a desperate cling.
‘Please be careful,’ she begged him. ‘Stay here for the night. Mother and Father won’t mind, not if you tell them what happened.’
Kael shook his head. ‘I’ll be careful,’ he promised. ‘I need to get home to Ma. She’ll be worried.’
‘I’m worried,’ Ronanen protested, but she reluctantly let him go. She held his hands as she reached up for a kiss. ‘I won’t forgive you if I don’t see you again.’
‘You will, promise.’ He kissed her back, squeezed her hands once more, and began the long walk home.
Left to his own thoughts, the flashing fight in the streets replayed itself over in his mind. That had certainly not been a mugging. No southerner would risk a scar on someone like him. He never tried to hide who he was and, though he wore his army trainee’s uniform, it was as worn and dishevelled as his casual clothes now. He walked barefoot, and never tried to hide the scars on his wrist. He looked the poor southerner he was, and were he to see himself passing in the street, he wouldn’t even consider himself worth a second look.
And then there was the manner of the fight itself. If their positions had been reversed, Kael would have fled as soon as he realised his intended victim could fight, but this attacker had fought on. The man had slashed at his throat, stabbed at his ribs and finally thrown his dagger in desperation. Kael swallowed and rubbed his throat with one hand, only a little bemused to find the roughness of new stubble growing there. The man had tried to kill him.
The realisation prickled with a cold sweat over his skin.
‘Mama,’ he mumbled, and broke into a run. His previously fatigued body found new life as he raced south, taking as many short cuts as he knew, slamming his hand against the walls to keep from crashing into them. Even as his lungs began to ache and his throat grew too dry to swallow, adrenaline fired him on. Someone had tried to kill him, and Mama was alone.
He broke over the Main Road and into the southern districts without a pause, flying down the familiar streets, wishing they were less meandering. The bends and the narrow alleys slowed him down and gave his legs just enough of a taste for rest that they shook and begged for more.
Finally, Kael’s modest one-room mud brick house appeared down the road.
‘Ma!’ he shouted as he ran. ‘Ma! Are ye there!’ He grabbed the edge of the door frame, crumbling some of the brittle old wall away in his haste as he flew into the room. ‘Ma!’
Kathani was curled up under the threadbare blanket, undisturbed. The room seemed untouched—even the hole where Kael hid his money box was still covered with sand. Everything seemed normal, except that Kael had burst shouting into the room, and Kathani hadn’t moved.
He crossed the two steps shaking and dropped to his knees beside his mother, pleading with her in an increasingly desperate voice. Even before he grabbed at her shoulder to wake her up, he knew she would be asleep forever.
‘Mama,’ he begged, rolling her over. The blanket was still warm, but already Kathani’s limbs were growing stiff. Her face was peaceful and calm, her eyes closed and mouth curled in a dreamlike smile. Her throat had been slit as she slept.